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ORACLES FROM THE POETS 



1 am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark. 

Merchant of Venice. 



% 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/oraclesfrompoets02gilm 




WHERE AND WHAT WILL BE YOUR RESIDENCE? 



A summer Lodge amid the wild. 

Rkyant. 



K 



ORACLES FROM THE POETS 



A FANCIFUL DIVERSION 



\ 

\ THE DRAWING-ROOM 



CAROLINE GILMAN, 



The enthusiast Sybil there divinely taught, 
Writes on loose foliage inspirotion's thought. 
She sings the fates, and in her frantic fits 
The notes and names inscribed to leaves commits. 

Dry den's and Symmon's Virgil. 

Macbeth. I conjure you, by that which you profess, 
\ (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me. 

\ First Witch. Speak. 

\ Second Witch. Demand. 

Third Witch. We'll answer. 



NEW YORK & LONDON: 
WILEY AND PUTNAM 

M.DCCC.XLV. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, 

By WILEY & PUTNAM, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 

District of New York. 



i Stereotyped by 

i RICHARD C. VALENTINE, 

< 45 Gold-street, New York. 






I THE FOLLOWING PAGES, 

\ ORIGINALLY INTENDED FOR THEIR AMUSEMENT, 

\ 

ARE DEDICATED TO 

MY CHILDREN. 



8& 



i 




PREFACE. 

WAS led to arrange " The Ora- 
cles from the Poets," by observ- 
ing the vivid interest taken by 
persons of all ages in a very com- 
mon-place Fortune-Teller in the 
hands of a young girl. It occur- 
red to me that I might avail myself of this love 
of the mysterious, for the intellectual enjoyment of 
my family circle. \ 

Instead, however, of the pastime of a few days, \ 
it has been the work of every leisure moment for \ 
six months. The first movement was the pebble \ 
thrown into the stream ; circle after circle formed, 
j until I found, with old Thomas Heywood, 

" My pen was dipt 
As well in opening each hid manuscript, 
As tracts more vulgar, whether read or sung 
In our domestic or more foreign tongue." 

| How rich these six months have been in the 
I purest and highest enjoyment, I will not stop to 
i say ; but to be allowed to float in such an atmo- 
sphere, buoyed up with the sweetest sympathies 
of friends, may be conceived to be no common I 
\ happiness. And now, with the hope of commu- 
\ nicating a portion of this pleasure more exten- 



sr 

i 

i 8 



sively, I yield this volume up as a public offering, 
for the advancement of those rational social en- 
joyments which seem to belong to the moral 
movement of the age. 

I do not know how far early associations may 
have influenced me, but I distinctly recollect the 
first Oracle of my childhood. At the age of eight 
years I attended a female seminary in a village. 
The classes were allowed a half hour for recrea- 
tion, and they usually played on the green within 
view of the academy building. One day I ob- 
served a group of girls of the senior class pass 
beyond the bounds and enter the church, which 
was opened for some approaching occasional ser- 
vice. I followed quietly. They walked through 
the aisle with agitated whispers, and ascended to 
the pulpit. Then each, in turn, opening the large 
Bible, laid a finger, with closed eyes, on a verse, 
and read it aloud, as indicating her fate or char- 

> acter. 

s I well remember the eagerness with which I 
j listened on the stairs, for I was afraid to crowd 
{ into the pulpit with the big girls. As they retired, 
^ I entered. I can recall the timid feeling with 
\ which I glanced round the shadowy building, the 

> awe with which I closed my eyes and placed my 
': small finger on the broad page, and the faith with 
\ which I read my Oracle. 



9 

I must make an early apology for venturing to \ 
alter the tenses of authors so as to conform to i 
answers. I tried the method of literal extracts, 
but they were deficient in spirit and directness. 
I can now only warn my readers not to quote the \ 
Oracles habitually, as exact transcripts, but resort \ 
to the originals. I have trembled as if it were I 
sacrilege to turn thus the streams of Helicon into \ 
this little channel, but I hope the evil may be 
balanced by the increased acquaintance of many 
with slighted authors. 

I have not allowed myself to select from period- \ 
icals, though American journals contain perhaps \ 
more favorable specimens of our literature than j 
the published volumes to which I have felt bound 
to confine myself. 

My selections have extended so far beyond the 
limits of my plan, that I propose furnishing an- 
other volume, in the course of the year, with ad- j 
ditional questions, including translations from \ 
popular authors. One question in the present i 
volume, To what have you a distaste or aversion ? \ 
is, I think, nearly exhausted, while its opposite, \ 
What gratifies your taste or affections ? presents { 
still an ample field for gleaning. Will this fur- \ 
nish any argument against those ascetics, who I 
think misery preponderates over happiness ? One \ 
fanciful question in the succeeding volume will 



10 

I be, What is the name of your Lady-love ? and an- 

\ other, Of him who loves you ? 

| I shall consider with respectful attention friend- 
ly suggestions made to me directly, or through my 

\ publishers, preparatory to the arrangement of an- 

j other volume, particularly in bringing to view 
any poet, who, by accident, may have escaped 

' attention. 

I have been urged to communicate, in a preface, 
the literary results which have necessarily flow- 
ed from the examination and comparison of such 
a mass of poets, but the task is beyond the limits 
of this humble effort. It would, indeed, be a rich 
field for a Schlegel or De Stael. 

A few curious speculations, however, may pre- 
sent themselves to the most superficial critic. In 
Shakspeare, for instance, so affluent in various 
delineations of character and personal appear- 
ance, I looked in vain for places of residence. 
There seemed not to be even a fair proportion of 
passages descriptive of musical sounds, hours, 
seasons, and (except in The Winter's Tale) of 
flowers. 

In Wordsworth, scarcely a flower or musical 
sound is described. They are alluded to, but not 
painted out. The poetry of Crabbe, though 
abounding in numerous characters, could surren- 
der almost none for my purpose, on account of 



11 

their being woven into the general strain of his 
narratives. Shelley, Landon, and Howitt, are 
eminently the poets of flowers, while Darwin, 
with a whole Botanic Garden before him, and 
Mason, in his English Garden, gave me, I think, 
none that I conceived fairly entitled to selection. 

Few passages of any sort, except those hack- 
neyed into adages, could be gained from Milton, 
on account of the abstract, lofty, and continuous 
flow of his diction. Coleridge has corresponding 
peculiarities. 

Keats and Shelley are the poets of the heav- 
ens. Byron, with faint exceptions, does not de- 
scribe a flower, or musical sound, or place of 
residence. \ 

The American poets, in contradistinction to \ 
their elder and superior brethren of the father- j 
land, display a more marked devotion to nature, 
with which a continual glow of religious senti- 
ment aptly harmonizes. I 

But I am recalled by these lengthening para- | 
graphs to my disclaimer, and only wish that an j 
abler and more philosophical pen than mine could j 
take my recent experience. \ 

After a close examination of the earlier dra- 
matic poets, though I have rescued from them j 
some exquisite gems, it seems to me far from de- \ 
sirable that they should be brought forward as \ 



12 

prominently as many of their wordy commenta- 
tors desire. A kind of pure instinct in the British 
taste has placed Shakspeare without a brother on 
the throne. The fathers of dramatic poetry acted 
according to their light, but it was not the " true 
light." A few relics, selected with caution, may 
honor their memory, but we should be careful 
while warning our youth against the impurities 
s of some modern poets, how we extol these vul- 
garities of a darker moral age. 

Before parting I must ask clemency for classing 
all my authors among Poets, that great word so 
deservedly sacred, and to which I bow with deep 
reverence ; but the Parnassus of my Oracles has 
many steps, and I cannot but feel kindly towards 
those, who sit gracefully even on the lower plat- 
form, nor apprehend that they will do more than 
look up deferentially to the laurel-crowned wor- 
thies at its summit. Besides, it has been the 
character of my taste, or perhaps philosophy, 
whenever literally or figuratively I gather a 
wreath of flowers, to twine the wild blossom as 
heartily as the exotic, and even insert a weed, if 
its color or contrast lends beauty to the combina- 
tion ; — and thus with my Oracles. 



CATALOGUE OF AUTHORS 

QUOTED IN THE ORACLES. 



ENGLISH. 



Akensidk 
Addison 

Bloomfield 

BoWRING 

Bayley 
Barbauld 
Burns 
Beattie 



ClBBER 

Cunningham 

Cook 

Coleridge 

Crabbe 

Cornwall 

Cumberland 

Chaucer 

Coleman 





Byron 


Clare 


I 




Bowles 


Churchill 


\ 




Baillie 


Carrington 


\ 




Barton 


Crashaw 




Browne 








Butler 


Dryden 






Beaumont and Fletcher 


Darwin 






Croly 


Elliott 






Cowper 








Carew 


Ferguson 


) 




Cowley 


Falconer 






Collins 








Congreve 


Gray 


| 


' 


Campbell 


Goldsmith 


| 




Chatterton 


Gay 


& 











14 




GlSBORNE 


More 




Grahame 


Mason 
Murphy 




HoWITT 


Massinger 




He MANS 


MlLMAN 




Home 


Montgomery 




Habington 


Mackenzie 


\ 


Hunt 


Macauly 


1 


Hogg 


MacNeil 


1 


Hayley 


Maturin 


1 


Hammond 




1 


Hastings 


Norton 


1 


Herbert 






Hood 


OSSIAN 




King James 


POLLOK 




Johnson 


Pope 




Jones 


Prior 


J 


Jonson 


Pomfret 
Percy's Reliques 




Keats 






Kemble 


Ramsay 

Rowe 




Landon 


Rogers 




Lee 


Roscoe 




Lamb 






Lyttleton 


Shelley 
Shakspeare 




Miller 


SOUTHEY 




Motherwell 


Sheridan 




Massinger 


Spenser 




Moore 


Sotheby 




Milton 


Sterling 


\ 

8tv- — 


Mitford 


Shenstone 







Q»<\/\/\/v\v\^\y\^\^ ^ 



15 



Swift 


Vaux 


Scott 




Smith 


Wordsworth 


SoMERVILLE 


Wilson 




Williams 


Taylor, John 


White 


Tennent 


Wotton 


Thomson 


Warton 


Tighe 


Watts 


Talfourd 


Wolcott 


Tennyson 


Webster 


TOBIN 




Taylor 


Young 


Thom 




AMERICAN. 




Aldrich 


Dana, Mrs. 




Davidson, M. 


Bryant 


Dana, R. H. 


Brooks 


Drake 


Bulfinch 


Dawes 


Benjamin 


Davidson, L. 


Burleigh 


Dinnies 


^Bancroft 


Dickson 


Brainard 


DOANE 


Charlton 


Embury 


Clark 


Emerson 


Carey 


Ellet 


Coxe 




Cranch 


Follen 


Child 


Fairfield 


Crafts 


Fay 



16 



Gallagher 
Gould 
Gilman, S. 
Goodrich 
Gilman, C. 
Greene 

Holmes 
Hill 
Harvey 
Halleck 

HlLLHOUSE 

Hale 

HOSMER 

Harrington 

James 

Lee 

Longfellow 

Lowell 

Lewis 

Lunt 

McLellan 

Morris 

M ELLEN 
MoiSE 

Miller 

Neal 

NoBLE 

Nack 



Osgood 

Percival 

Peters 

Pierpont 

Prentice 

Peabody 

PlERSON 

Pike 
Payne 

Smith 

Street 

Simms 

Sargent 

Sands 

SlGOURNEY 

Sprague 
Scott 

TuCKERMAN 

Willis 

Whittier 

Ware, H. 

Wells 

Welby 

Ware, Mrs. 

Wilde 

Whitman 

Wilcox 

Wood worth 



» 







^HE Game of the Oracles is composed of the fol- \ 

lowing fourteen Questions, with sixty Answers J 

each, numbered. * 

What is your character 1 — Gentleman. Page 21 ; 

What is your character ? — Lady. " 35 * 

What is the personal appearance of your lady-love ? " 51 \ 

What is the personal appearance of him who loves ; 

you] " 69 j 

What is the character of your lady-love ] " 83 \ 

What is the character of him who loves you ? " 97 $ 

What season of the year do you love ? * " 111 \ 

What hour do you love 1 " 129 \ 

What musical sounds do you love 1 " 147 jj 

What is your favorite flower ? " 161 \ 



What gratifies your taste or affections ? "175 

For what have you a distaste or aversion 1 "193 

Where or what will be your residence 1 " 209 

What is your destiny 1 "227 



2* 



DIRECTIONS 



FOR THE GABfE OF THE ORACLES FROM THE POETS. 



FOR A FORTUNE-TELLER WITH TWO PERSONS. 

The person who holds the book asks, for instance, What is 
your character * The individual questioned selects any one 
of the sixty answers under that head, say No. 3, and the 
questioner reads aloud the answer No. 3, which will be the 
Oracle. 

FOR A ROUND GAME. 

Where there are more than six persons present, it will be 
well to select the following questions, as the game, connected 
with the discussions to which it will probably give rise, will 
be too protracted by introducing the whole, and the remaining 
questions are of a sentimental rather than personal class. 
What is your character 1 — Gentleman. Page 21 

What is your character 1 — Lady. " 35 

What is the personal appearance of your lady- 
love ? " 51 
What is the personal appearance of him who 

loves you ? " 69 

What is the character of your lady-love ? " 83 

What is the character of him who loves you "? " 97 

Where or what will be your place of residence ? " 209 
What is your destiny 1 " 227 



8r 

\ 20 

\ 

; A questioner having been selected, he calls on each indi- 
j vidual to choose a number under the question proposed, and 
< reads each answer aloud as the number is mentioned. If the 
\ party agree to the arrangement, the author of the Oracle can 
I be demanded by the questioner, and a forfeit paid in case of 
1 ignorance, or a premium given for a correct answer. 
$ If the person whose Oracle is read cannot tell the author, 
I any one of the party may be allowed a trial in turn, and re- 
jj ceive the premium. 



WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER] 



■ISfEalMA: 



All our knowledge is ourselves to know. 

Pope. 



Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us, 
To see oursels as others see us ; 
It wad frae monie a blunder free us 
And foolish notion ! 

Burns. 



WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER? 



©iEMTILiEiMA^ 



OU kiss not where you wish to kill, \ 

You feign not love where most you hate, I 
You break no sleep to win your will, I 
You wait not at the mighty's gate. 
Lord Vaux. 




2. E'en your failings lean to virtue's side. 



Goldsmith 



3. Polite, yet virtuous, you have brought away 
The manners, not the morals of the day. 

Cowper. 



4. Thou art slow to science ; the chart and letter'd page 
Have in them no deep spell whereby thy spirit to 

engage ; 
But rather thou wouldst sail thy boat, or sound thy \ 

bugle-horn, | 

Or track the sportsman's triumph through the fields j 

of waving corn, J 

Than o'er the ponderous histories of other ages bend, | 
Or dwell upon the sweetest page that ever poet penn'd. I 

Mrs. Norton. \ 



% 



24 

5. A spider you may best be liken'd to, 
Which creature is an adept, not alone 
In workmanship of nice geometry, 
But is beside a wary politician. 

Taylor. 

6. I know thee brave, — 
A counsellor subtle, and a leader proved, — 
With wisdom fitting for a king's right hand ; 
Firm in resolve, nor from thy purpose moved : 
Then what lack'st thou to render thee beloved ? 
Thou'st wooed and won a gentle heart, and more, — 
Hast trampled it to dust. 

Allan Cunningham. 

7. I would rather wed a man of dough, 

Such as some school-girl, when the pie is made, 
To amuse her childish fancy, kneads at hazard 
, Out of the remnant paste. 

John Tobin. 

8. Thou, with a lofty soul, whose course 

The thoughtless oft condemn, 
Art touch'd by many airs from heaven 

Which never breathe on them. 
Moved too by many impulses, 

Which they do never know, 
Who round their earth-bound circles plod 

The dusty paths below. 

Albert G. Greene. 



25 

9. You look the whole world in the face, 
For you owe not any man. 

Longfellow. 

10. You loiter, lounge, are lank and lazy, 
Though nothing ails you, yet uneasy ; 
Your days insipid, dull, and tasteless, 
Your nights unquiet, long, and restless ; 
And e'en your sports at balls and races, 
Your galloping through public places, 
Have sic parade, and pomp, and art, 
The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 

Burns — Two, Dogs. 

11. Thou'st never bent at glory's shrine, 
To wealth thou'st never bow'd the knee, 
Beauty has heard no vows of thine, 
Thou lovest ease, 

R. H. Wilde. 

12. A gentleman of all Temperance. 

Measure for Measure. 

13. You are positive and fretful, 
Heedless, ignorant, forgetful. 

Swift. 

14. There is one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, 
The secret of their mastery — they're short. 

** - Halleck. 



a 



15. For contemplation framed, 
Shy and unpractised in the strife of phrase, 
Yours is the language of the heavens, the power, 
The thought, the image, and the silent joy. 
Words are but under-agents in your soul. 

Wordsworth. 

16. You take delight in others' excellence, 
A gift which nature rarely doth dispense ; 
Of all that breathe, 'tis you, perhaps, alone, 
Would be well pleased to see yourself outdone. 

Young — Epistles. 

17. You are the Punch to stir up trouble, 
You wriggle, fldge, and make a riot, 
Put all your brother puppets out. 

Swift. 

18. You'd shake hands with a king upon his throne, 
And think it kindness to his majesty. 

Halleck. 

19. The meanest thing, earth's feeblest worm, 

You fear to scorn or hate ; 
But honor in a peasant's form 
The equal of the great. 

Ebenezer Elliott. 

20. You may be thrown among the gay and reckless 

sons of life, 



27 
But will not love the revel scene or head the brawl- 

Eliza Cook. 



ing strife. 



21. You are one, 
Who can play off your smiles and courtesies 
To every lady, of her lap-dog tired, 
Who wants a plaything. 

Southey. 

22. Come, rouse thee now ; — I know thy mind, 

And would its strength awaken ; 
Proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind. 

Anna P. Dinnies. 

23. In choice 
Of morsels for the body, nice are you, 
And scrupulous ; — 

And every composition know 
Of cookery. 

Pollok — Course of Time. 

24. A man thou seem'st of cheerful yesterdays, 
And confident to-morrows. 

Wordsworth. 

25. Sir, I confess you to be one well read 
In men and manners, and that usually 
The most ungovern'd persons, you being present, j 



28 

Rather subject themselves unto your censure. 
Than give you least occasion of distaste, 
By making you the subject of their mirth. 

Bex Jonson. 

I 

\ 

\ 26. When nae real ills perplex you, 

You make enow yoursel' to vex you. 

Burns. 

27. You speak an infinite deal of nothing. 

Merchant of Venice. 
\ 

\ 28. Calm, serene, 

Your thoughts are clear and honest, and your words, | 
Still chosen most gently, are not yet disguised 
To please the ear of tingling vanity. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

; 29. Large" is your bounty, and your soul sincere ; 
Heaven does a recompense as largely send : 
You give to misery all you have — a tear ; 

You gain from heaven, 'tis all vou ask — a friend. \ 

\ n \ 

< Gray. 



c 

{ 30. You worship God with inward zeal, and serve him > 

\ in each deed ; 

Yet will not blame another's faith, nor have one \ 

martyr bleed. 

Eliza Cook. 
< 



29 

31. Silent when glad, affectionate though shy; 

And now your look is most demurely sad ; 
And now you laugh aloud, yet none know why, — 
Some deem you wondrous wise, and some believe 
you mad. 

Beattie — Minstrel. 

32. You act upon the prudent plan, 

" Say little, and hear all you can :" 
Safe policy, but hateful. 

Cowper. 

33. You are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admi- 

rable discourse, generally allowed for your many 
warlike, courtlike, and learned preparations. 
Merry Wives of Windsor. 

34. So gentle, yet so brisk, so wondrous sweet, 
Just fit to prattle at a lady's feet. 

Churchill. 

35. Lord of yourself, though not of lands, 
You, having nothing, yet have all. 

Sir Henry Wotton. 

36. No change comes o'er thy noble brow, 

Though ruin is around thee ; 
Thine eye-beam burns as proudly now 
As when the laurel crown'd thee. 

Mrs. Child. 



3* 



30 

37. Some have too much, yet still they crave ; 

You little have, yet seek no more ; 
They are but poor, though much they have, 

And you are rich with little store. 
They poor, you rich ; they beg, you give ; 
They lack, you lend ; they pine, you live. 

Lord Vaux. 

38. With every shifting gale your course you ply, 
Forever sunk too low or borne too high. 

Pope. 

39. You will not bow unto the common things 
Men make their idols. Yo ; will stand apart 
From common men ; your sensual appetite 
Shall be subservient to your loftier soul. 

Mary Howitt. 

40. Sloth, the nurse of vices, 
And rust of action, is a stranger to you. 

Massinger. 

41. The worth of the three kingdoms I defy 

To lower you to the standard of a lie. \ 

Cowper. 

42. I have some comfort in this fellow ; 

He hath no drowning mark upon him ; his complexion K 
Is perfect gallows. 

Tempest \ 



31 

43. You lacke no witte, 

You speke whatte bee the trouthe, 
And whatte all see is ryghte. 

Rowley — ( Chatter ton.) 



X 44. A man resolved and steady to his trust, 

Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just. 
\ Dr. Watts. 



45. I know thy generous temper well ; 

Fling but the appearance of dishonor on it, 
It straight takes fire, and mounts into a blaze. 

Addison — Cato. 

46. Just like a snail through life's dull path you creep, 
Your whole existence but a waking sleep. 

R. M. Charlton. 

47. Your nature is, 
That you incline to hope rather than fear, 
And gladly banish squint suspicion. 

Milton — Comus. 

48. A right tender heart, 
Melting and easy, yielding to impression, 

And catching the soft flame from each new beauty. 

Rowe — Jane Shore. 

49. The ruby lip, the sparkling eye, 

All unavailing prove ; 



9? 



32 

Wandering from fair to fair you fly, 
But will not learn to love. 

Dr. S. H. Bicks&n. 

50. Never credit me, if I don't think thee more stupid, 

yea, more obtusely, intensely, and impenetrably 
thick-skulled, than ever man or woman was be- 
fore thee. 

Fanny Kemble — Star of Seville. 

51. Some deem you are a surly man, 

But they know not your griefs and fears, 
How you have been beloved by one, 
Whose image lies "too deep for tears." 

Thomas Miller. 

52. One charm, 
We in your graceful character observe ; 

That though your passions burn with high impa- 
tience, 
And sometimes, from a noble heat of nature, 
Are ready to fly off, yet the least check 
Of ruling reason brings them back to temper, 
And gentle softness. 

Thomson — Tancred and Sigismunda. 

53. You are the fellow at the chimney corner, 
Who keeps the fire alive that warms us all. 

Fanny Kemble. 



7$ 
33 \ 

54. You love, and would be loved again ; 
Do but confess it; — you possess a soul, 
That what it wishes, wishes ardently. 
You would believe you hated, had you power 
To love with moderation. 

Hill — Zara. 

55. A soul 
Too great, too just, too noble to be happy. 

Cibber — Zimena. 

56. Though straiter bounds your fortune does confine, 
In your large heart is found a wealthy mine. 

Waller. 

57. Your heart has settled in a sea of pride, \ 
Till every part is cold and petrified. \ 

Miss H. F. Gould. < 

58. Your mirth is the pure spirits of various wit, \ 
Yet never doth your God or friends forget ; \ 
And when deep talk and wisdom come in view, 
Retires, and gives to them their due. \ 

Cowley. s 

X 59. You are young, and of 

That mould which throws out heroes ; fair in favor, 

And doubtlessly, with such a form and heart, 

Would look into the fiery eyes of war. 

\ Byron — Werner. 

\ \ 



n 



.34 

60. Calm as evening skies 

Is your pure mind, and lighted up with hopes 
That open heaven. 

Thomson — Tancred and Sigismunda. 



WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER] 



IL,^,®^, 



Nevill. — Know'st thou how slight a thing a woman is 1 
Scudmore. — Yes ; and how serious too. 

Nathaniel Field — 
Woman's a Weathercock. A Comedy. 
From Lamb's Specimens of OH Dramatic Poets. 



% 



WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER? 

LABY a 



?4^^^BS ONE know thee but to love thee, 
332tC?K None name thee but to praise. 

Halleck. 

2. Oh, thou wilt ever be what now 
thou art, 
^ Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring; 
As fair in form, as warm, yet pure in heart, 
Love's image upon earth without its sting. 

Byron. 

3. Ever o'er thy soul a shadow lies, 

Still darkest, when life wears the sunniest skies ; 
And even when with bliss thy heart beats high, 
The swell subsides into a plaintive sigh. 

Mrs. Pierson. 

4. Sometimes will you laugh, and sometimes cry, 
Then sudden you wax wroth, and all you know not 

why. 

Thomson. 





38 

Thou doest little kindnesses, 

Which most leave undone or despise ; 
For naught that sets one heart at ease, 
And giveth happiness or peace, 

Is low esteemed in thy eyes. 



James R. Lowell. 



6. Thou art merry and free, 
Thou carest for naebody, 
If naebody care for thee. 



Burns. 



7. Women love you. that you are a woman 
More worth than any man ; men, that you are 
The rarest of all women. 

Winter's Tale. 

8. Not only good and kind, 

But strong and elevated is thy mind ; 
A spirit that with noble pride 
Can look superior down 
On fortune's smile or frown ; 
That can, without regret or pain, 
To virtue's lowest duty sacrifice. 

Lord Lyttleton. 

9. At table you are scrupulous withal ; 
No morsel from your lips do you let fall, 
Nor in your sauce will dip your fingers deep. 
Well can you carry a morsel, and well keep, 



39 

That not a drop e'er falls upon your breast. 

In courtesy your pleasure much doth rest. 

Your dainty upper lip you wipe so clean, 

That in your cup there is no farthing seen 

Of grease, when you have drunk ; and for your meat, 

Full seemly bend you forward on your seat. 

Chaucer. 



10. You have a natural, wise sincerity, 
A simple truthfulness ; 

And though yourself not unacquaint with care, 
Have in your heart wide room. 

James R. Lowell. 



11. What you do 

Still betters what is done ; when you speak, sweet, 
We'd have you do it ever. 

Winter's Tale. 



12. An inward light to guide thee, 
Unto thy soul is given, 
Pure and serene as its divine 
Original in heaven. 

James Aldrich. 



13. You have no gift at all in shrewishness, 

You are a right woman for your cowardice. 
I Midsummer Night's Dream. 



— 2S 



40 

14. The world has won thee, lady, and thy joys 
Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys. 

Crabbe. 

15. Mishap goes o'er thee like a summer cloud ; 
Cares thou hast none, and they who stand to hear 

thee, 
Catch the infection and forget their own. 

Rogers — Italy. 

16. Nature for her favorite child, 

In thee hath temper'd so her clay, 
That every hour thy heart runs wild, 
Yet never once doth go astray. 

Wordsworth. 

17. Your only labor is to kill the time, 
And labor dire it is, and weary wo ; 

You sit, you loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme, 
Then rising, sudden to the glass you go. 

Thomson. 

18. You will die if love you not ; and you will 

die ere you make your love known ; and you will 
die if he woo you, rather than abate one breath 
of your crossness. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

19. It cannot bend thy lofty brow, 

Though friends and foes depart, 



41 

The car of fate may o'er thee roll, 
Nor crush thy Roman heart. 

Mrs. Child. 

20. You wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat 

and drink, make the beds, and do all yourself. 
Merry Wives of Windsor 

21. To tend 
From good to better — thence to best, 

Grateful you drink life's cup, then bend 

Unmurmuring to your bed of rest ; 
You pluck the flowers that around you blow, 
Scattering their fragrance as you go. 

BOWRING. 

22. Rich in love 
And sweet humanity, you will be yourself, 
To the degree that you desire, beloved. 

Wordsworth 

23. You little care what others do, 

And where they go, and what they say ; 
Your bliss all inward, and your own, 
Would only tarnish'd be by being shown. 
The talking, restless world shall see, 
Spite of the world, you'll happy be ; 

But none shall know, 

How much you are so, 

Save only Love. 

Mrs. Barbaild. 

4* w 



42 



\ 24. Scared at thy frown, abash'd will fly 
l Self-pleasing folly's idle brood, 

Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, 
\ And leave thee leisure to be good. 

\ Gray. 



| 25. A happy lot be thine, and larger light 

Await thee there ; — for thou hast bow'd thy will 
In cheerful homage to the rule of right, 
And lovest all, and doest good for ill. 

Bryant. * 

26. In you are youth, beauty, and humble port, 
Bounty, richesse, and womanly feature ; 
God better knows than my pen can report, 
Wisdom, largesse, estate and cunning sure. 
In every point so guided is your measure, 
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance, 
That nature could no more her child advance. 

King James I. 

27. You do incline to sadness, and oft-times 
Not knowing why. 

Cymbaline. 

28. You are a riddle, 
Which he who solved the sphinx's would die guess- 



ing! 



John Tobin. 



\ 43 

] 

i 29. You have train'd your spirit to forgive, 
As you hope to be forgiven ; 
And you live on earth as they should live 
Whose hopes and home are heav # en. 

Bowrino. 

30. A reasonable woman ; 
Fair without vanity, rich without pride, 
Discreet though witty, learned yet very humble. 

John Tobin. I 

31. There's little of the melancholy in you ; you are < 

never sad but when you sleep, and not even sad 
then ; for I have heard that you often dream of I 
mischief, and wake yourself with laughing. 
Much Ado About Nothing. 

32. Like a summer storm awhile you're cloudy, 
Burst out in thunder and impetuous showers, 
But straight the sun of beauty dawns abroad, 
And all the fair horizon is serene. 

Nicholas Rowe. 

33. Think not the good, 
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done 
Shall die forgotten all ; the poor, the prisoner, 
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, 
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand, 

j Shall cry to heaven and pull a blessing on thee, 

s George Lillo. 



ST' 



44 



34. A friend to the hen-coop you often are found ; 
When the rat or the weasel are prowling around, 
Or chick become motherless strays from the wing, 
A mother are you to the motherless thing. 

Maria James. 

35. A' the day you spier what news kind neibor bodies 

bring. 

Motherwell. 

36. Innocence and virgin modesty, 

A virtue and a consciousness of worth 
That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won. 
Milton — Paradise Lost. 

37. It is your pleasure sweetly to complain, 
And to be taken with a sudden pain ; 
Then up you start, all ecstasy and bliss, 
And are, sweet soul, just as sincere in this. 

Oh, how you roll your charming eyes in spite, \ 

And look delightfully with all your might. 

Dr. Young — Love of Fame. 

38. Gracious to all ; but where your love is due \ 
So fast, so faithful, loyal, just, and true, I 
That a bold hand as soon might hope to force 

The rolling light of heaven, as stay your course. \ 

Waller. s 

\ 

39. Thou medley of contraries! \ 

We trust thee, yet we doubt thee, 



45 

Our darkness and our light ; 

Night would be day without thee, 
And day, without thee, night. 
I Judge Charlton. 

| 

\ 40. You are a soul so white and so chaste, 

\ As nothing called foul 

Dares approach with a blot, 

\ Or any least spot ; 

\ But still you control 

j Or make your own lot, 

\ Preserving love pure as it first was begot. 
\ Ben Jonson. 

< 

\ 41. The power you wield has its best spells in love, 

And gentleness, and thought; never in scorn, 

| Or any wayward impulse or caprice. 

| W. G. SIMMS. 

42. You love to listen better than to talk, 
\ And, rather than be gadding, would sit quiet ; — 

Hate cards, and cordials. 



\ 

\ 43. You do not love 

I As men love, who love often. Yours has been 

\ A single sentiment for one alone, 

I 

An all-engrossing passion, which doth live 

| On hope and faith. 

!; Elizabeth Bogart. 



j 46 

44. Thou talkest well, but talking is thy privilege ; 
'Tis all the boasted courage of thy sex. 

Nicholas Rowe — Tamerlane. 

45. Thoughts go sporting through your mind 

Like children among flowers, 
And deeds of gentle goodness are 

The measure of your hours. 
In soul or face you bear no trace 

Of one from Eden driven, 
But, like the rainbow, seem, though born 

Of earth, a part of heaven ! 

George Hill. 

46. All things thou art by turns, from wrath to love, 
From the queen eagle, to the vestal dove. 

Barry Cornwall. 

47. You've turn'd up your nose at the short, 

And cast down your eyes at the tall ; 
But then you just did it in sport, 
And now you've no lover at all. 

G. P. Morris. 

48. Alive to feel and curious to explore 
Each distant object of refined distress. 

Whitehead — Roman Father. 

49. You have a soul 

Of god-like mould, intrepid and commanding : 



x~ 


, % 




47 | 




But you have passions which outstrip the wind, \ 

And tear your virtues up. \ 

Congreve — Mourning Bride. \ 



50. There's not a lovely transient thing 
But brings thee to our mind ! 

The rainbow, or the fragile flower, 
Sweet summer's fading joys, 
The waning moon, the dying day, 
The passing glories of the clouds, 
The leaf that brightens as it falls, 
The wild tones of the iEolian harp, 
All tell some touching tale of thee , 
There's not a tender lovely thing 
But brings thee to oui mind. 

Mrs. Follen. 

51. 'Tis not your part, 
Out of your fond misgivings, to perplex 

The fortunes of the man to whom you cleave; 
'Tis yours to weave all that you have of fair 
And bright, in the dark meshes of their web. 

Talfourd — Ion. 

52. In our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please ; 
When pain and sickness rend the brow, 
A ministering angel thou. 

Scott. 



48 

53. Ever art thou fair, 
Ev'n in the city's gaudy tumult, fair ; 
Yet he who marks thee only as the charm 
And worship of gay crowds, in festive halls, 
Knows but thy living image, not thy soul, 
Joyless in that cold pomp. 

Dr. Brown — Bower of Spring. 

54. Thine is the heart that is gentle and kind, 

And light as the feather that sports in the wind. 
Hogg — Queen's Wake. 



55. Your person is a paradise, and your soul the cherub $ 

to guard it. > 

Dryden. I 



56. Your two red lips affected zephyrs blow, 
To cool the Hyson, and inflame the beau ; 
While one white finger and a thumb conspire 
To lift the cup, and make the world admire. 

Young. 

57. More than a sermon love you the touch'd string, 
You love to tinkling tunes your feet to fling. 

Allan Cunningham. 

58. Coquet and coy at once your air, 

Both studied, though both seem neglected ; 
Careless you are with artful care, 
Affecting to seem unaffected. 

CONGREVE. 



u 



49 

59. Your sweet humor t 
Is easy as a calm, and peaceful too. \ 
All your affections like the dew on roses, — 

Fair as the flowers themselves, as sweet and gentle. 
Beaumont and Fletcher — The Pilgrim. 

60. Grateful we find you, patient of control ; 
A most bewitching gentleness of soul 
Makes pleasure of what work you have to do. 

Bloomfield — The Miller's Maid. 



! 51 



WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF 
YOUR LADY-LOVE ? 



Must you have my picture ? 

You will enjoin me to a strange punishment. 

With what a compell'd face a woman sits ^ 

While she is drawing ! I have noted divers £ 

> Either to fain smiles, or suck in the lips, | 

To have a little mouth ; ruffle the cheeks, % 

To have the dimple seen ; and so disorder | 

% The face with affectation, at next sitting ? 

5 It has not been the same. | 

\ But indeed * 

i If ever I would have mine drawn to the life, 

I would have a painter steal it at such a time 
"> I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers ; 

There is then a heavenly beauty in't, the soul 
Moves in the superficies. 

John Webster — 
The Devil's Law Case. A Tragi-Comedy. 

From Lamb's Specimens of Dramatic Poets. 



,& 



53 



WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF 
TOUR LADY-LOVE? 




ER eyes are shadowy, full of thought 

and prayer, 
And with long lashes o'er a white 

rose cheek 

Drooping. 

Mrs. Hemans. 

2. A thing all lightness, life, and glee, 

One of the shapes we seem 
To meet in visions of the night, 
And should they greet our waking sight, 

Imagine that we dream. 

George Hill. 

3. A lovelier nymph the pencil never drew ; 
For the fond Graces form'd her easy mien, 
And heaven's soft azure in her eye is seen. 
She seems a rose-bud when it first receives 
The genial sun in its expanding leaves. 

Hayley — Triumphs of Temper. 



54 



Eyes 
$ As tender as the blue of weeping skies, 
\ Yet sunny in their radiance as that blue ? 
\ When sunset glitters on its falling dew. 



| 

I 4. 



? John Neal. 

| 5. She bends beneath the weight of dress, 

\ The stiffened robes, which spoil her easy mien, 

\ And art mistaken makes her beauty less, 

While still it hides some beauties better seen. 
Hammond — Love Elegies. 

6. There is a sweetness in her upturn'd eyes, 
A tearful lustre, such as fancy lends 
1 To the Madonna, and a soft surprise, 



As if they found strange beauty in the air. [ 

Park Benjamin. 

7. Her soft, clear eyes, deep in their tenderness, 
Reflect all beautiful and kindly things* 
She would seem infantile, but that her brow 
In lilied majesty uptowers, and tells 
That lofty thoughts and chasten'd pride are there. 

Mrs. Gii-man. 

8. Oh, the words 
Laugh on her lips; the motion of her smiles 
Showers beauty, as the air-caressed spray 
The dews of morning ; and her stately steps 
Are light, as though a winged angel trod 



55 

Over earth's flowers, and fear'd to brush away 

Their delicate hues. 

Milman — Fazio. 

9. She has ane e'e, she has but ane, 
The cat has twa the very color ; 
Five rusty teeth forbye a stump, 

A clapper tongue would deave a miller. 

Burns. 

10. She lacks the beauty of a " damask skin," 
But there are roses lying near at hand, 
To spring unto her cheek ; oft from within 
They come, called up at feeling's high command. 
And on the glowing surface long remain. 

Mrs. M. S. B. Dana. 

11. If on her we see display'd 
Pendent gems, and rich brocade, 
If her chintz with less expense 
Flows in easy negligence, 

If she strikes the vocal strings, 
If she's silent, speaks, or sings, 
If she sit, or if she move, 
Still we love and we approve. 



Dr. Johnson. 



12. Her laugh is like a fairy's laugh, 
So musical and sweet ; 
Her foot is like a fairy's foot, 
So dainty and so fleet. 



56 

Her smile Is fitful sunshine, 
Her hand is dimpled snow, 

Her lip a very rose-bud 
In sweetness and in glow. 



Mrs. Osgood. 



13. A thoughtful and a quiet grace, 
Though happy still ; — yet chance distress 
Hath left a pensive loveliness ; 

Fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams, 
And her heart broods o'er home-born dreams. 

Wilson. 

14. Her swollen eyes are much disfigured,, 
And her faire face with tears 

Is foully blubbered. 



15. A downcast eye, repentant of the pain 
That its mild light creates. 



Spenser. 



Keats. 



16. Not fairer grows the lily of the vale, 
Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale ; 
While health that rises with the new-born day, 
Breathes o'er her cheek the softest blush of May. 

Falconer — Shipwreck. 

17. Fairest where all is beautiful and bright ! 
With what a grace she glides among the flowers 
That smile around her, bowing at her touch. 

\ Gallagher. 



57 

18. On her cheek an autumn flush 
Deeply ripens ; — such a blush 
In the midst of brown was born, 
Like red poppies grown with corn. 
Around her eyes her tresses lay, 
Which are blackest, none can say ; 
But long lashes veil a light, 
That had else been all too bright. 



Hood. 



> 19. Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour 
Is lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie ; 

i But gratious womanhood and gravitie, 

Above the reason of her youthly yeares. 

\ Her golden locks she roundly doth uptye, 

In braided trammels, that ne looser heares 

\ Do out of order stray about her daintie eares. 

i Spenser 

20. A silver line, that from the brow to the crown, 
And in the middle, parts the braided hair,<fc 
Just serves to show how delicate a soil 
The golden harvest grows in ; while those eyes, 
Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky, 
Whose azure depth their colour emulates, 
Must needs be conversant with upward looks, 
Prayer's voiceless service. 



Wordsworth. 



21. Half the charms that deck her face, 
Arise from powder, shreds, and lace. 



Goldsmith. 



58 

\ 22. Time from her form has ta'en away but little of its 

s grace, 

\ His touch of thought hath dignified the beauty of 

| her face. 

I Bayley. 

j 23. 'Tis strange, 

\ That though you study long, you cannot tell 

I The color of her eye, that seems to change, 

| Beneath the ivory lid, from brilliant black 

To liquid hazel, then to full soft gray, 

Fast melting into violet. 

Miss M. E. Lee. 

24. Her face is heaven's bow in showers. Her dark 

hair flows round it like streaming clouds. 

OSSIAN. 

25. She has an innocently downcast look, 

And when she raises up her eyes of blue, 
It seems as if her features were a book, 
\Hiere sweet affection letters love for you. 

Rufus Dawes. 

26. Indeed she has a marvellous white hand, 
\ I must needs confess. 

\ Troilus and Cressida. 

\ 27. I never saw a crowned queen, 

| With such a noble air, 

> So angel-like, so womanly, 

\ As is your lady fair. 

< Mary Howitt. 

\ 



; 59 

I 28. Around her playful lips do glitter 
j Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn, 

| Harmless they are, for nothing bitter 

I In that dear heart was ever born. 

That merry heart, that cannot lie 

Within its warm nest quietly, 
But ever from the full dark eye 
Is looking kindly, night and morn. 

J. R. Lowell. ? 

29. Oh, her glance is the brightest that ever has shone, < 

And the lustre of love's on her cheek ; \ 

But all the bewildering enchantment is gone < 

The moment you hear her speak. 3 

Mrs. Ellet. 

30. The rose, with faint and feeble streak, 1 
So slightly marks the maiden's cheek, 

That you would say her hue is pale ; 
But if she face the Southern gale, 
Or speaks, or sings, or quicker moves, 
Or hears the praise of those she loves, 
Or when of interest is express'd j 

Aught that wakes feeling in her breast, \ 

The mantling blood in ready play \ 

Rivals the blush of opening day. i 

Scott — Rokeby. > 

i 

31. She dresses aye sae clean and neat, j 

Both decent and genteel ; \ 

3$ 



60 



And then there's something ir: her gait 
\ Gars ony dress look weel. 



I 32. She walks in beauty, like the night 

Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 

I And all that's best of dark and bright, 

| Meet in her aspect and her eyes. 

i Byron. 



\ 33. Eyes of the gray, 

The soft gray of the brooding dove, 

\ Full of the sweet and tender ray 

I Of holy love. 

\ Mrs. Norton. 

s 
> 

I 34. I saw her hand — she has a leathern hand, 

| A freestone color'd hand. I verily did think j 

i That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hand ; \ 

1 She has a housewife's hand ! jj 

\ As You Like It. | 

I 35. The fashion of her gracefulness is not a follow 'd jj 

\ rule, 5 

And her effervescent sprightliness was never taught I 

| at school ; <; 

| Her words are all peculiar, like the fairy's that \ 

\ spoke pearls, 

{ And her tone is ever sweetest 'mid the cadences of I 

\ girls. \ 

i Willis. \ 



61 

36. There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip ; 

Nay, her foot speaks. 

Troilus and Cressida. 



37. She has that changing color on the cheek, ^ 
Which speaks the heart so well ; those deep blue \ 

eyes, < 

Like summer's darkest sky, yet not so glad ; I 
They are too passionate for happiness. 

Miss Landon. 

38. There is a light around her brow, 

A holiness in those dark eyes, 
Which show, though wandering earthward now, 
Her spirit's home is in the skies. 

Moore. 

39. A still, sweet, placid, moonlight face, 

And slightly nonchalant, 
Which seems to hold a middle place 

Between one's love and aunt. 
Where childhood's star has left a ray 

In woman's summer sky, 
As morning's dew and blushing day 

On fruit and blossom lie. 

O. W. Holmes. 

\ 

< 
s 40. A bright, frank brow, that has not learn'd to blush \ 

at gaze of man. s 

Macauley — Lays of Ancient Rome. < 



62 

41. If to her share some female errors fall, 
Look in her face, and you'll forget them all. 

Hayley — Triumphs of Temper. 

42. Quips, and cranks, and playful wiles, 
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 

And love to live in dimple sleek. 

Milton — Comus. 

43. Excellently done, if God did all. 

Twelfth Night. 
• 

44. A ruby lip 

First dawns ; then glows the young cheek's deeper 

hue, 
Yet delicate as roses when they dip 
Their odorous blossoms in the morning dew. 
Then beam the eyes, twin stars of living blue, 
Half shaded by the curls of glossy hair, 
That turn to gold in the West's golden glare. 

Croly — Angel of the World. 

45. Love glower'd* when he saw her bonnie dark e'e, 

'An swore by heaven's grace, 
He ne'er had seen, nor thought to see, 
Since e'er he left the Paphian lea, 

Mair lovely a dwallin' place. 

William Thom. 

* Stared with surprise. 

Mr 



63 | 

46. An angel-face ! its sunny " wealth of hair," \ 

In radiant ripples, bathes the graceful throat, \ 

And dimpled shoulders ; round the rosy curve \ 

Of the sweet mouth, a smile seems wandering ever, j 
While in the depths of azure fire that gleams 
Beneath the drooping lashes, sleeps a world 
Of eloquent meaning — passionate, but pure ; 
Dreamy, subdued, but O, how beautiful ! 

Mrs. Osgood. 



47. Do but look in her eyes, they do light 

All that Love's world compriseth : 
Do but look on her hair, it is bright 

As Love's star when it riseth ! 
Do but mark, her forehead's smoother 

Than words that sooth her, 
And from her arched brows such a grace 
Sheds itself through the face, 
As alone there triumphs to the life, 
All the gain, all the good, of the elements at strife. 

Ben Jonson. 

48. When first you look upon her face, 

You little note, beside 
The timidness, that still betrays 

The beauties it would hide ; 
But, one by one, they look out from 

Her blushes and her eyes, 

And still the last the loveliest, 

Like stars from twilight skies. 

George Hill. 



64 

49. Endearing ! endearing ! 

Why so endearing 
Are those dark lustrous eyes, 

Through their silk fringe peering ? 
They love thee ! they love thee ! 

Deeply, sincerely ; 
And more than aught else on earth, 

Thou lov'st them dearly. 



Motherwell. \ 



50. In face an angel, but in soul a cat ! 

Dr. Wolcott — Peter Pindar. 



51. Her feet beat witchcraft as she heads the dance, 

Lads, like a garland, hem her round about, 
While Love rains on them from her dark eye- 
glance. 
The maidens near her, tittering, take their stance, 
And on her swan-white neck, and snowy arms, 
Her small and nimble feet, they look askance ; 

The hoary fiddler, as he listens, warms, 
And draws a lustier bow, and gazes on her charms. 

Allan Cunningham. 

52. A cheek, fair 
And delicate as rose-leaf newly blown — - 

A brow like marble — lofty, and profuse $ 

With the rich brown of her o'ergathering hair. \ 

W. G. SIMMS. j 

5 



65 

53. Such her beauty, as no arts 

Have enrich'd with borrow'd grace; 
Her high birth no pride imparts. 

For she blushes in her place. 
Folly boasts a glorious blood, 
She is noblest, being good. 

Habington. 

54. O'er her features steal, serenely mild, 

The trembling sanctity of woman's truth, 
Her modesty, and simpleness, and grace ; 

Yet those who deeper scan the human face, I 

Amid the trial-hour of fear or ruth, ^ 

May clearly read, upon its heaven-writ scroll, > 
That hiffh and firm resolve, which nerved the Ro- i 

man soul. \ 

Mrs. Sigourney. \ 

55. On her forehead sitteth pride, { 
Crown'd with scorn, and falcon-eyed ; I 
But she beneath, methinks, doth twine \ 
Silken smiles, that seem divine. \ 
Can such smiles be false and cold 1 \ 
Can she, will she wed for gold ? \ 

Barry Cornwall. 

56. Oh ! her beauty is fair to see, 
But still and steadfast is her e'e, 
And the soft desire of maiden's e'en, 
In that mild face can never be seen. 



6* 



66 

Her seymat is the lily flower, 

And her cheek the moss-rose in a shower, 

And her voice, like the distant melody 

That floats along the twilight sea. 

But she lo'es to raike the lonely glen, 

And keep afar frae the haunts o' men. 

Hogg — Queen's Wake. 

57. 'Tis not her eye or lip we beauty call, 
But the joint force and full result of all. 

Pope. 

i 58. Her face is very beautiful, and mirth 

\ Is native on her lip ; but ever, now, 

As a sweet tone delighteth her, the smile 
Goes melting into sadness, and the lash 
Droops gently to her eye, as if it knew 
Affection was too chaste a thing for mirth. 

Willis. 

59. Have you seen but a bright lily grow, 
Before rude hands have touch'd it ? 
Have you mark'd but the fall o' the snow, 

Before the soil hath smutch'd it ? 
Have you felt the wool of the beaver ? 

Or swan's-down ever ? 
Or have smelt o' the bud of the brier ? 

Or the nard in the fire ? 
Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? 
O so white I O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! 

Ben Jonson. 



j 67 

| 60. Her nose is crook'd, and turn'd outwarde. 
Her chin stands all awry ; 
A worse formed lady than she is, 

Was never seen with eye. 
Her haires like serpents cling aboute 

Her cheekes of deadlye hewe ; 
A worse form'd ladye than she is 
No man mote ever view. 

Percy's Reliques — The Marriage of Sir Gawaine. \ 






WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF \ 
HIM WHO LOVES YOU 1 



'Twas pretty, though a plague, 

To see him every hour, to sit and draw i 

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, I 

In our heart's table ; heart, too capable ? 

Of every line and trick of his sweet favor. ', 

All's Well That Ends Well \ 

I will drop in his way some obscure epistle of love ; wherein, \ 

by the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his \ 

gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall ) 

find himelf most feelingly personated. I 

Twelfth Night. I 



WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF 
HIM WHO LOVES YOU? 




N his bold visage middle age \ 

Has slightly press'd its signet sage, \ 

)| Yet has not quench'd the open truth 

[[! And fiery vehemence of youth. 

'IB^^^SSmS Scott— Lady of the Lake. 

2. He is young I 

And eminently beautiful, and life I 

Mantles in eloquent fulness on his lip, j 

And sparkles in his glance, and in his mien < 

There is a gracious pride that every eye J 

Follows with benisons. \ 

Willis. \ 

\ 3. He hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow { 

| beard. \ 

'• Merry Wives of Windsor. I 

i 4. The high-born eye, \ 

j That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy. \ 

\ Byron — Corsair. I 



j 72 

| 5. Locks jet black, and clustering round a face 

> Open as day, and full of manly daring. 

5 Rogers — Italy. 

| 6. His face is keen as is the wind 

\ That cuts along the hawthorn fence, 
\ A motley air 

I Of courage and of impudence. 

> WoRDSWORTlt. 



< 7. Oh what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 

\ In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 

\ Twelfth Night. 



\ 8. A goodly person, and can manage faire 

\ His stubborn steed, 

I Who under him doth trample in the air, 

\ And chafe, that any on his back should sit. 

> Spenser. 



9. His waggish face, that speaks a soul jocose, 

Seems t'have been cast i' the mould of fun and 

| glee ; 

l And on the bridge of his well-arched nose, 

Sits laughter plumed, and white-wing'd jollity. 

I Tennent — Anster Fair. 



10. The glow of temperance o'er his cheek is spread, 
Where the soft down half veils the chasten'd red. 

Crabbe. 



% 



73 

11. Readable as open book ; 
And much of easy dignity there lies 
In the frank lifting of his cordial eyes. 

Leigh Hunt — Rimini. 

12. Underneath that face, like summer ocean's, 

Its lip as moveless, and its cheek as clear, 
Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, 
Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow — all save fear. 

Halle ck. 

13. Singing he is, or fluting all the day ; | 
He is as fresh as is the month of May. | 
He can songs make, and well indite, \ 
Jouste, and eke dance, and well portray and write ; \ 
Courteous he is, lowly and serviceable, \ 
And carveth for his father at the table. I 

Chaucer. ? 

14. Does he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut 

in his gait I 

Merry Wives of Windsor. 

15. Sober he seems, and very sagely sad, I 

And to the ground his eyes are lowly bent. 

Simple in show. < 

Spenser — Fairy Queen. \ 

16. He is the deuce among the girls, % 
A thing of foppery and ton, of whiskers and of curls. 5 

Albert Pike. j 

7 



74 I 

I 

17. A dainty gentleman, 

His sleepy eyes half closed, and countenance 
To no expression stronger than may suit 
A simper, capable of being turn'd. 

SoUTHEY. 

18. Contempt contracts his face, a smile is on his dark- 

brown cheek, his red eye rolls half concealed be- 
neath his shaggy brows. 

OSSIAN. 

19. Downcast, or shooting glances far, 

How beautiful his eyes, 
That blend the nature of the star 
With that of summer skies I 



Wordsworth. 



20. Eyebrows bent like Cupid's bow, 
Front an ample field of snow, 
Even nose, and cheek withal 
Smooth as is the billiard-ball ; 
Chin as woolly as the peach, 
And his lip doth kissing teach, 
Till he cherish too much beard 
And make Love and you afear'd. 



Ben JonsoiX. 



21. A fair and meaning face, an eye of fire, 

That checks the bold and makes the free retire. 

Crabue. 



75 

22. He has all the graces that render a man's society 

dear to ladies. 

Massinger. 

23. A beard that would make a razor shake, 
Unless its nerves were strong ! 

Albert Pike. 

24. He hath but a little beard, but time will send more 

if the man will be thankful. 

As You Like It. 

25. A fresh young Squire, 
A lover, and a lusty bachelor ; 

With locks curPd as they were laid in press : 
Of twenty years of age he is, I guess. 

Chaucer. 

26. His form is middle size, 
Shaped in proportion fair ; 
And hazel is his eagle eye, 
And auburn of the deepest dye 
His short curl'd beard and hair. 

Scott. 

27. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. 

Coriolanus. 

28. A kind true heart, a spirit high, 

That cannot fear, and will not bow, 



'% 



76 

Are written in his manly eye, 
And on his manly brow. 



Halleck. 



29. He has more goodness in his little finger, than you 

have in your whole body ; 
Indeed he is a personable man, and not a spindle- 
shanke'd hoddy-doddy. 

Swift. 

30. A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, 
Framed in the prodigality of nature, 
Young, valiant, wise, 

The spacious earth cannot afford again. 

Richard III. 

31. A handsome gallant, and a beau of spirit, 
Who can go down the dance so well as he ? 

Tennent — Anster Fair. 

32. A phantom, fashionably thin, 

With limb of lath, and bearded chin. 

Scott — Bridal of Triermain. 

33. There is a fair behavior in him, 

And though that nature with a beauteous wall 
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of him 
I well believe, he has a mind that suits 
With this his fair and outward character. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 



2* — 


77 


~ x 


\ 34. 


Like a crane, his neck is long and fine, 
With which he swalloweth up excessive feast. 

Spenser. 





35. Oh thy love has an eye 
Like a star in the sky, 

And breath like the sweets from the hawthorn tree 

And his heart is a treasure, » 

Whose worth is past measure, 

And yet he hath given all — all to thee. 

Barry Cornwall. 

36. His form, his face, his noble mien, 
The sweetness of his touching tone, 
His feeling heart so simply shown, 
Such gifts of mind, such gentle grace, 
Proclaim him of no common race. 

Sotheby. 

37. A brow of beautiful yet earnest thought, 
A form of manly grace. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 

38. He's handsome, valiant, young, 
And looks as he were laid for nature's best, 
To catch weak women's eyes. 

Dryden — All for Love. 

39. In that fair stand, his forehead, Love still bends 
His double bow, and round his arrows sends ; 



78 



In that tall grove, his hair, those globy rings 5 

He flying curls, and crispeth with his wings. \ 

Ben Jonson. ^ 



j 

> 40. He's fat, and scant o' breath. 



Hamlet. 



\ 41. Lordly look*d and lordly limb'd is he, — 

\ A frame of iron, a right arm long and stark, 

I A rough, loud voice, a visage somedale dark, 

A heart which soars as dangers soar, and ne'er 
i Sinks save in peace. 

\ Allan Cunningham. 

s 

I 42. Tall is his frame, his forehead high, 

Still and mysterious is his eye ; 
I His look is like a wintry day 

When storms and winds have sunk away. 
\ Hogg — Queen's Wake. 

43. He chats like popinjay, 

And struts with phiz tremendously erect. 

Tennent — Anster Fair. 



44. His large fair front, and eye sublime, declare 
Absolute rule, and hyacinthine locks, 
Round from his parted forelock, manly hang 
Clustering. 

Milton — Paradise Lost. 



ST 

I 79 ! 

* 45. A sweet-faced man ; a proper man as one shall see \ 

\ in a summer's day ; a most lovely, gentleman- j 

| like man. 

\ Midsummer Night's Dream. t 



46. Dark deep eyes, and lips 
Whose motions gift the air they breathe with love. 

Shelley. 

47. Full long are both his spindle-shanks, and lean 
Just like a walking-stick — no calf is seen. 

Chaucer. 

48. Faster than his tongue 
Doth make offence, his eye doth heal it up. 

As You Like It. 

: 49. His eyes are like the eagle's, yet sometimes 
Liker the dove's ; and at his will he wins 
All hearts with softness, or with spirit awes. 

i Home — Douglass. 

} 50. There's a cold bearing, 

And grave, severe aspect about the man, 

\ That makes our spirits pay him such respect, 

As though he dwelt 'neath age's silvery pent-house, 

i Despite his unripe years. 



Fanny Kemble. 



51. Young and fair, 

Yet a man ; — with crisped hair, 
Cast in thousand snares and rings 



> 80 

I For Love's fingers, and his wings: 

Chesnut color, or more slack 
Gold, upon a ground of black. 



Ben Jonson. 



I 

I 52. A brow half martial, and half diplomatic, 
An eye upsoaring like an eagle's wings. 

Hallece. 

53. He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth : 
He writes verses, he speaks holiday, 
He smells April and May. 

Merry Wives of Windsor. 

54. 7 Tis not his talent to conceal his thoughts, 
And carry smiles and sunshine in his face, 
When discontent sits heavy at his heart. 

Addison — Cato. 

55. A fop complete, 
He stalks the jest and glory of the street. 

Crabbe. 

56. Oh what a grace is seated on his brow ! 
A combination and a form indeed, 
Where every god doth seem to set his seal 
To give the world assurance of a man. 

Hamlet. 

57. Such beauty as great strength thinks no disgrace, 
Smiles in the manly features of his face ; i 



l 81 

| His large black eyes, fill'd with a spriteful light, 

Shoot forth such lively and illustrious night, 
As the sunbeams on jet reflecting show ; 
His hair is black, in short curPd waves doth flow ; 
His tall, straight body amid thousands stands, 
Like some fair pine o'erlooking all the lands. 

1 Cowley — Davideis. 

I 58. He witches the world with noble horsemanship, 
\ And vaults into his saddle with such ease, 

\ As if an angel dropt down from the clouds 

To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus. 
| Henry IV. 

\ 59. A stalwart, active, soldier-looking stripling, 
Handsome as Hercules ere his first labor, 
And with a brow of thought beyond his years 
When in repose, till his eye kindles up, 
In answering yours. 

Byron — Werner. 

60. His face is dark, but very quiet ; 

It seems like looking down the dusky mouth 
Of a great cannon. 

John Sterling — Strafford. 



WHAT IS THE CHARACTER OF YOUR 
LADY-LOVE? 



Look at her, whoe'er 
Thou be that kindlest with a Poet's soul 

Intensely from imagination take 

The treasure ; what mine eyes behold see thou, 
Even though the Atlantic Ocean roll between. 

Wordsworth. 

The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 

Into his study of imagination ; 

And every lovely organ of her life, 

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 

More moving, delicate, and full of life, 

Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 



WHAT IS THE CHARACTER OF YOUR LADY- 
LOVE? 




ER body's matchless form 
Is better'd by the pureness of her mind. 
Massinger. 

2. She's made of those rare elements 
that now and then appear, 
As if removed by accident into a lesser sphere, 
Forever reaching up and on to life's sublimer things, 
As if they had been used to track the universe with 

wings. 

Willis. 



3. This reasoning maid, above her sex's dread, 
Has dared to read, and dares to say she read. 

Crabbe. 



Her smile so soft, her heart so kind, 
Her voice for pity's tones so fit, 

All speak her woman ; — but her mind 
Lifts her where bards and sages sit. 



Dr. Brown. 



86 

5. A perfect woman, nobly plann'd, 
To warn, to comfort, and command, 
And yet a spirit still, and bright 
With something of an angel light. 

Wordsworth. 

6. One whose life is like a star, 
Without toil or rest to mar 
Its divinest harmony, 

Its God-given serenity. 

James Aldrich. 

7. She is wise, if I can judge of her, 

And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, 
And true she is, as she hath proved herself. 

Merchant of Venice. 

8. Right from the hand of God her spirit came 
Unstain'd, and she hath ne'er forgotten whence 
It came, nor wander'd far from thence, 

But laboreth to keep her still the same, 
Near to her place of birth, that she may not 
Soil her white raiment with an earthly spot. 

J. R. Lowell. 

9. With her mien she enamors the brave, 

With her wit she engages the free, 

With her modesty pleases the grave ; 

She is every way pleasing to thee. 

Shenstone. 



U, 



87 

10. I would my horse had the speed of her tongue. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

11. As through the hedge-row shade the violet steals, 
And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals, 

Her softer charms, but by their influence known, 
Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own. 

Rogers. 

12. Full many a lady 

You have eyed with best regard, and many a time, 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought your too diligent ear ; for several virtues 
You have liked several women ; never any 
With so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, 
And put it to the foil : But she, O she, 
So perfect and so peerless, is created 
Of every creature's best ! 



Tempest. 



\ 13. She is all simplicity, 

A creature soft and mild ; 
\ Though on the eve of womanhood, 

\ In heart a very child. 



Mrs. Wei.by. 



14. Who does not understand and love her, 

With feeling thus o'erfraught ? 

Though silent as the sky above her, 

Like that, she kindles thought. 



Dr. Gilman. 



% 



15. Sacred and sweet is all I see in her. 

Taming of the Shrew. 

16. She is 
Happy in all endowments, which a poet 
Could fancy in his mistress ; being herself 
A school of goodness, where chaste maids may 

learn, \ 

By the example of her life and pureness, 
To be, as she is, excellent. \ 

Massinger. 

I 

17. She steps like some glad creature of the air, $ 
As if she read her fate and knew it fair ; i 
In truth, for fate at all she hath no care. ^ 

Yet hath she tears as well as gladness ; s 

A butterfly in pain j 

Will make her weep for very sadness, > 

But straight she'll smile again. ) 
A. M. Wells. 

18. A maiden never bold 
Of spirit, so still and quiet, that her motion 
Blush'd at itself. 

Othello. | 

19. She saith not once nay when thou sayest yea ; 

" Do this," saith he. " All ready, sir," saith she. 

Chaucer. s 



89 

20. Every thought and feeling throw 
Their shadows o'er her face, 
And so are every thought and feeling join'd, 
'Twere hard to answer whether heart or mind 
Of either were the native place. 

Washington Allston. 



21. She speaks, 

Yet she says nothing ! 



Romeo and Juliet. 



22. She will weep for nothing, like Diana in the foun- 
tain, when thou art disposed to be merry ; and 
will laugh like a hyena, when thou art disposed 
to sleep. 



As You Like It. 



23. Though on pleasure she is bent, 
She has a frugal mind. 



Goldsmith. 



X 
I 

24. Happy in this, she is not yet so old I 

But she may learn ; happier than this, $ 

She is not bred so dull but she can learn : s 

Happiest of all is, that her gentle spirit \ 

Commits itself to yours to be directed. s 

Merchant of Venice. > 

I 

25. Mind is her best gift, and poetry her world ; I 

And she will see strange beauty in a flower, > 

As by a subtle vision. I 

Willis. 

8*" 



I 90 

i 

\ 26. A being of sudden smiles and tears, 
j Passionate visions, quick light and shade. 

Hi 



5 27. Little she speaks, but dear attentions 

< From her will ceaseless rise ; 

^ She checks our wants with kind preventions, 

| And lulls the children's cries. 

\ Dr. Gilman. 

\ 

I 28. Oh when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd ! 

She was a vixen when she went to school, 

And though she be but little, she is fierce. 

I Midsummer Night's Dream. 



< 29. Graceful and useful all she does, 

Blessing and blest where'er she goes. 



Cowper. 



30. She has an earnest intellect, a perfect thirst of mind, 
A heart by elevated thoughts and poetry refined. 

Willis. 

31. A timid grace sits trembling in her eye, 
Speaking most plain the thoughts which do possess 
Her gentle sprite, — peace, and meek quietness, 
And innocent love, and maiden purity. 

Charles Lamb. 

32. She hath more hair than wit, 
More faults than hairs, 

And more wealth than faults. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 



91 

33. Her soul is more than half divine, 

Where, through some shades of earthly feeling, 
Religion's soften'd glories shine, 

Like light through summer foliage stealing. 

Moore. 

34. She will turn from a love-breathing seraph away, 
If he come not apparell'd in purple and gold. 

Mrs. Osgood. 

35. She sways her house, commands her followers, 
Takes and gives back affairs and their despatch, 
With a most smooth, discreet, and stable bearing. 

Twelfth Night. 

36. Spring hath no blossom fairer than her form, 

Winter no snow-wreath purer than her mind. 
The dew-drop trembling to the summer sun 

Is like her smile; bright, transient, heaven-refined. 

Mrs. Pierson. 

37. She is a lady of confirmed honor, of an unmatcha- 

ble spirit, and determinate in all virtuous resolu- 
tions ; not hasty to anticipate an affront, nor slow 
to feel where just provocation is given. 

Charles Lamb. 

38. Her outward charms are less 
Than her winning gentleness ; 
With maiden purity of heart, 



92 

Which, without the aid of art, 

Does in coldest hearts inspire 

Love. 

James Aldrich. 

39. She dwells among us like a star, 

That from its bower of bliss 
Looks down, yet gathers not a stain 
From aught it sees in this. 

Mrs. Welby. 

40. She in pleasant purpose doth abound, 
And greatly joyeth merry tales to feign. 

Spenser. 



41. Early and late, at her soul's gate, 
Sits Chastity in warder wise ; 
No thought unchallenged, small or great, 
Goes thence into her eyes ; 
Nor may a low, unworthy thought 
Beyond that virgin warder win, 
Nor one, whose password is not " ought," 
May go without, or enter in. 

J R. Lowell. 

42. A light, busy foot astir 
In her small housewifery, the blithest bee 
That ever wrought in hive. 

MlTFORD. 



'&■ 



93 

43. Practised to lisp and hang the head aside, 
Faint into airs, and languish into pride. 



Pope. 



44. She is ever fair, and never proud, 

Hath tongue at will, and yet is never loud. 

Othello. 

45 I call her richly blest, 

In the calm meekness of her woman's breast, 

Where that sweet depth of still contentment 

lies ; 

And for her household love, which clings 

Unto all ancient and familiar things, 

Weaving from each some link for home's dear 

charities. 

Hemans. 

46. She's peevish, sullen, froward, 

Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 



47. No simplest duty is forgot ; 
Life hath no dim and lowly spot 
That doth not in her sunshine share. 

J. R. Lowell. 

48. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprizing what they look on ; — and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 

All matter else seems weak. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 



94 

49. With despatchful looks 
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent, 
What choice to choose for delicacy best, 
What order so contrived as not to mix 
Tastes not well join'd, inelegant, but bring 
Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change. 

Milton. 

50. None so gay as she ; 
Up hill and down, morning, and noon, and night, 
Singing or talking ; singing to herself 

When none give ear. 

Rogers— Italy. 

51. The green 
And growing leaves of seventeen 

Are round her; — and half hid, half seen, 

A violet flower ; 
Nursed by the virtues she hath been 

From childhood's hour. 

Halleck. 

52. Blest with temper whose unclouded ray 
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day : 
Spleen, vapors, or small-pox, above them all, 
And mistress of herself though china fall. 

Pope — Characters of Women. 

53. Seldom she speaks, but she will listen 

With all the signs of soul ; 



95 

Her cheek will change, her eye will glisten, 

As waves of feeling roll. 

Dr. Gilman. 

54. She bears a purse ; she is a region in Guiana, all 

gold and bounty. 

Merry Wives of Windsor. 

55. You are as rich in having such a jewel, 
As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl, 
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

56. Oh, she is a golden girl, 
But a man — a man should woo her ! 
They who seek her shrink aback, 
When they should like storms pursue her. 

Barry Cornwall. 

57. She is soft as the dew-drops that fall 
From the lip of the sweet-scented pea ; 
Perhaps when she smiled upon all, \ 
Thou hast thought that she smiled upon thee. i 

Mackenzie — Man of Feeling 
s i 

\ 58. She is the cause of six matches being broken off, < 

■ and three sons disinherited. j 

? Sheridan. I 

<. * 

S £ 

I 59. All her strain 

1 Is of domestic gladness, fire-side bliss, j 



96 

And household rule ; nor thought loose, light, or 

vain, 
Stains her pure vision of meek happiness. 

Allan Cunningham. 

60. She loves, but 'tis not you she loves, 

Not you on whom she ponders, 
When in some dream of tenderness 

Her truant fancy wanders. 
The forms that flit her vision through, 

Are like the shapes of old, 
Where tales of Prince and Paladin 

On tapestry are told. 
Man may not hope her heart to win, 

Be his of common mould. 

C. F. Hoffman. 



WHAT IS THE CHARACTER OF HIM $ 
WHO LOVES YOU? \ 



Something that may serve to set in view 
The doings, observations which his mind 
Had dealt with — I will here record in verse. 

Wordsworth. 



H 



WHAT IS THE CHARACTER OF HIM WHO 
LOVES YOU? 



JP|||||||| F manners gentle, of affections mild, 
||pl§|||||g! In wit a man, simplicity a child. 

Pope. 



^■aSv^^jJS*^^*' 2. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you ; 
and he's a man good enough ; he's one of the 
soundest judgments, and a proper man of person. 
Troilus and Cressida. 



3. Love, fame, and glory, with alternate sway 
Thrill his warm heart, and with electric ray 
Illume his eye ; yet still a shade of care, 
Like a light cloud that floats in summer air, 
Will shed at times a transitory gloom, 

But shadow not one grace of manly bloom. 

Mrs. K. Ware. 

4. He wounds no breast with jeer and jest, yet bears no 

honey 'd tongue, 






100 

He's social with the gray-hair'd one, and merry 
with the young. 

Eliza Cook. 

5. A shallow brain behind a serious mask, 
An oracle within an empty cask ; 

He says but little, and that little said 

Owes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. 

Cowper — Conversation. 

6. Fearless he is, and scorning all disguise ; 

What he dares do, or think, though men may start, 
He speaks with mild, yet unaverted eyes. 

Shelley. 

7. A lofty spirit his, and somewhat proud ; 
Little gallant, and has a sort of cloud 
Hanging forever on his cold addriss. 

Leigh Hunt — Rimini. 

8. He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, 
Swears brave oaths, and breaks them as bravely 

As You Like It. 

9. In truth he is a strange and wayward wight, 
Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene ; 
In darkness and in storm he finds delight, 
Nor less than when on ocean's wave serene 
The southern sun displays his dazzling sheen. 

Beattie — Minstrel. 



101 

10. There is In him so much man, so much goodness, 
So much of honor, and of all things else 

Which make our being excellent, that from his store 

He can enough lend others. 

Massinger. 

11. He draweth out the staple of his verbosity finer than 

the staple of his argument. 

Love's Labour Lost, 

12. His words are strong, but not with anger fraught, 
A lore benignant he hath lived and taught ; 

To draw mankind to heaven by gentleness 

And good example is his business, 

Chaucer. 

13. The monarch-mind, the mystery of commanding, 

The god-like power, the art Napoleon 
Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding 
The hearts of millions, till they move as one. 

Halle ck. 

14. Devout, yet cheerful ; pious, not austere ; 
To others lenient, to himself severe. 

Dr. Harvey. 

15. With scrupulous care exact, he walks the rounds 
Of fashionable duty; laughs when sad, 

When merry weeps, deceiving is deceived, 
And flattering, flatter'd. 

POLLOK. 

9*~ 



102 

16. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. 

Hamlet. 

17. Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow ; 
Who knows the man can never cease to know. 

Crabbe. 

18. Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun, 
To relish a joke, and rejoice in a pun ! 

Goldsmith. 

19. He is a man 

Among a thousand. Unassuming, he 

May yet assume unquestion'd. Gentleness, 

And a strange strength, a calm o'erruling strength, 

Are mix'd within him so, that neither take 

Possession from the other, — neither rise 

In mastery or passion, but both grow 

Harmoniously together. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

20. For beauty and fortin' the laddie's been courtin', 
Weel featured, weel tochered, weel mounted and 

braw! 

Burns. 

21. He will pick a quarrel for a straw, 
And fight it out to the extremity. 

Charles Lamb. 



103 

22. He cannot flatter and speak fair, 

Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and coy, 
Duck with French nods, and apish courtesy. 

Richard III. 

23. A primrose by the river's brim 

A yellow primrose is to him, 

And it is nothing more. 

Wordsworth. 

24. His young bosom feels the enchantment strong 
Of light, and joy, and minstrelsy and song. 

Pierpont — Airs of Palestine. 

25. If he has any faults he leaves us in doubt, 
At least in six weeks we can't find them out. 

Goldsmith. 

26. The friend of man, the friend of truth, 
The friend of age, the guide of youth ; 
Few hearts like his with virtue warm'd, 
Few heads with knowledge so inform'd. 

Burns. 

27. If his body were opened, and you find so much 

blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, 
I'll eat the rest of his anatomy. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

28. He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers, 
You never can please him, do a' that you can ; 
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows. 

Burns. 



.1? 



\ 104 

1 

| 29. An ample soul, 

i Rockbound and fortified against assaults 

j Of transitory passion, but below 

Built on a surging, subterraneous fire, 
I That stirs and lifts him up to high attempts. 

> Taylor. 

! 

< 30. His very manners teach to amend, 
| They are so even, grave and holy ; 

No stubbornness so stiff, nor folly 

To license ever was so light, 
\ As twice to trespass in his sight ; 

I His look would so correct it when 

It chid the vice, yet not the men. 

Ben Jonson. 

31. He thinks, 
That he who fights and runs away 
May live to fight another day. 

Butler — Hudibras. 

32. He keeps his honesty and truth, 

His independent tongue and pen, 
And moves in manhood, as in youth, 
Pride of his fellow-men. 

Halleck. 

33. His life doth flow 
From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, 
In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure 



ar 

| 105 

I Alone are mirror'd ; which, though shapes of ill 

May hover round its surface, glides in light, 
And takes no shadow from them. 

Talfourd — Ion. 

34. He is too costly for every day, 

You would want another for working days. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

35. Strange, that his nobly fashion'd mould, 

In which a very god might dwell, 
Should only live to dig for gold, 
And perish in its narrow cell ! 

Bowring. 

\ 

i> 36. He has no party rage, no sectary's whim ; 

Christian and countryman is all with him. 

I Crabbe. 

37. Valiant he as fire, 

Showing danger more than ire. 
Bounteous as the clouds to earth, 
And as honest as his birth ; 
All his actions they are such 
As to do no thing too much ; 
Nor o'erpraise, nor yet condemn, 
Nor outvalue, nor contemn, 
Nor do wrongs nor wrongs receive, 
Nor tie knots, nor knots unweave. 



106 

{ From all baseness to be free, 

As he durst love truth and thee. 

Ben Jonson. 

38. He snuffs far off the anticipated joy, 
Turtle and venison all his thoughts employ. 

Cowper. 

39. In his strength 
The mighty oak has likeness ; gentleness 
In him is like the rosy parasite, 
The flush Spring gives it wrapping it around 
With sweetest color and adorning grace. 
His soul, refined beyond the rustic world, 
Has yet no city vices. He has kept 

Its whiteness unprofaned. \ 

W. G. Simms. j 

40. He'll never learn his bark to steer 
'Mid passion's sudden, wild career, 
Nor try at times to tack and veer 

To interest's gale, * 

But hoist the sheet, unawed by fear I 

Though storms prevail. j 

Hector Macneil. \ 

I 

41. A fair example of his own pure creed, $ 
Patient of error, pitiful to need, 

Persuasive wisdom in his thoughtful mien. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 



107 



42. One of that stubborn sort he is, 

Who if they once grow fond of an opinion, 
They call it honor, honesty, and faith, 
And sooner part with life than let it go. 

Rowe — Jane Shore. 



J 43. Virtue's his path, but sometimes 'tis too narrow 
For his vast soul, and then he starts wide out, 
And bounds into a vice that bears him far 
From his first course, and plunges him in ills. 

s Dryden — All for Love. 



44. A man whom storms can never make 

Meanly complain, nor can a flattering gale 

Make him talk proudly. 

Dr. Watts. 

45. He'll prattle shrewdly with such witty folly, 

As almost betters reason. 

John Howard Payne. 

46. Heed not, though at times he seem 

Dark and still, and cold as clay ; 

He is shadow'd by his dream, 

But 'twill pass away. 

Barry Cornwall. 

47. He quick is anger'd, and as quick 

His short-lived passion's over-past, 

Like summer lightnings, flashing thick, 

But flying ere a bolt is cast. 

E. D. Griffin. 



108 

48. Oh, he's as tedious 

As a tired horse, a railing wife, 
Worse than a smoky house 



Henry IV. 



49. Love, the germ 

Of his mild nature, hath spread graces forth, 
Expanding with its progress ; as the store 
Of rainbow color, which the seed conceals, 
Sheds out its tints from its dim treasury 
To flush and circle in the flower. 

Talfourd. — Ion 

50. He is but what need I say that or this, 

I'd spend a month to tell ye what he is ! 

Ramsay — Gentle Shepherd. 

51. With maids he's softer than the clouds in May ; 
But had you seen him, lady, in his ire, 
When, like one born of thunder, he did march 
And strike down men as stubble sinks in fire — 
But then he hath a tongue could wile 

The laverock from the cloud. 

Allan Cunningham. 

52. Within his soul 
Springs up a deep sense of the beautiful, 
The holy, the exalted, and a love 
Embracing in its circle all creation. 

Lady Flora. Hastings. 



109 | 

53. He so light is at legerdemain, X 

That what he touches comes not to light again. \ 

Spenser. X 



54. Though learn'd, well-bred ; and though well-bred, 

sincere ; 
Modestly bold, and humanely severe. 

Pope. 

55. To express his mind to sense, 
Would ask a heaven's intelligence, 
Since nothing can report that flame 
But what's of kin to whence it came. 

Ben Jonson. 

56. A little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight, 
That holds his precious self his dear delight, 
And loves his own smart shadow in the street. 

Burns. 

57. No caprice of mind, 
No passing influence of idle time, 

No popular show, no clamor from the crowd 
Can move him, erring, from the path of right. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

58. Wasting his life for his country's care, 
Laying it down with a patriot's prayer. 

Barry Cornwall. 



10 



110 

59. A man whose sober soul can tell 
How to wear her garments well, 
Her garments that upon her sit 

As garments should do, close and fit ; 
A well-clothed soul, that's not oppress'd 
Nor choked with what she should be dress'd ; 
A soul sheath'd in a crystal shrine, 
Through which all her bright features shin'e. 

Crashaw. 

60. And still we gaze, and still the wonder grows, 
That one small head can carry all he knows. 

Goldsmith — Deserted Village. 



WHAT SEASON OF THE YEAR DO YOU LOVE ? 



January gray is here, 

Like a sexton by a grave ; 

February bears the bier, 

March with grief doth howl and rave, 

And April weeps ; but oh, ye hours, 

Follow with May's fairest flowers. 

Shelley. 

The seasons of the year, 

some arm'd in silver ice that glisten, 

And some in gaudy green, come in like masquers. 

Beaumont and Fletcher. 



-& 



WHAT SEASON OF THE YEAH DO YOU LOVE ? 




HE bold March wind ! 

The merry, boisterous, bold March 

wind ! 
Who in the violet's tender eyes 
Casts a kiss, — and forward flies. 

Barry Cornwall. j 



2. The beautiful spirit of Spring, 

When the demons of Winter before her fly, 
While the gentle fan of her delicate wing 
Repels the ardor of Summer's eye. 

James Nack. 



3. Thou lovest the merry Summer months of beauty, 

song, and flowers, 
Thou lovest the gladsome months that bring thick 

leafiness to bowers ! 
Up, up, thy heart, and walk abroad, fling cark and 

care aside, 
Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful 

waters glide, 



S& 



10* 



114 j 

Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree, < 

Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt ? 

tranquillity. I 

Motherwell. \ 



4. The eventide of Summer, when the trees 
Yield their fresh honors to the passing breeze, 

And woodland paths with autumn tints are dyed ; 
When the mild sun his paling lustre shrouds 
In gorgeous draperies of golden clouds. 

Mrs. E. C. Embury. 

5. When on the breath of Autumn breeze, 

From pastures dry and brown, 
Goes floating, like an idle thought, 
The fair white thistle-down. 

Mary Howitt. 

6. A day of Winter beauty. Through the night 
The hoar-frost gather'd o'er each leaf and spray, 
Weaving its filmy net- work, thin and bright, 
And shimmering like silver in the ray 

Of the soft sunny morning; — turf and tree 
Prank'd in delicate embroidery, 
And every wither'd stump and mossy stone 
With gems encrusted and with seed-pearls sown ! 

Mrs. Whitman. 

7. When May, 
With her cap crown'd with roses, 



115 

Stands in her holiday dress in the fields, and the 

> wind and the brooklet 

Murmur gladness and peace, God's peace ! with 
lips rosy tinted, 
\ Whisper the race of the flowers, and merry, on 

balancing branches, 
Birds are singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to 

the Highest. 

> Longfellow. 

I 8. Autumn eventide; 

When sinking on the blue hill's breast, the sun \ 

Spreads the large bounty of his level blaze, 
Lengthening the shade of mountains and tall trees. 5 

s George Lunt. I 

i 9. When on a keen December night, Jack Frost 

Drives through mid air his chariot icy-wheel'd, \ 
And from the sky's crisp ceiling, star-emboss'd, 
Whiffs off the clouds that the pure blue concealed. < 
Tennent — Anster Fair. I 

10. When Spring, advancing, calls her feather'd quire, \ 

And tunes to softer notes her laughing lyre ; I 

Musk'd in the rose's lap fresh dews are shed, I 

And breathe celestial lustres round her head. ^ 

Darwin. \ 



11. June with its roses, June ! 

The gladdest month of the capricious year, 



116 

With its thick foliage, and its sunlight clear, 

And with a drowsy tune 
Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass 
Laughingly on, amid the springing grass ! 

W. H. Burleigh. 

12. When Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down 
By the wayside, a-weary. 

Longfellow. 

13. Winter, shod with fleecy snow, 

Who cometh white, and cold, and mute, 
Lest he should wake the Spring below. 

Barry Cornwall. 

14. When the south wind in May days, 
With a net of shining haze, 
Silvers the horizon wall ; 

And with softness touching all, 
Tints the human countenance 
With a color of romance, 
And infusing gentle heats, 
Turns the sod to violets. 

R. W. Emerson. 

15. When Spring's unfolded blooms 
Exhale in sweetness, that the skilful bee 
May taste, at will, from their selected spoils, 
To work her dulcet sweet. 

Akenside — Pleasures of the Imagination. 

1C 



117 

16. The joyous Winter days, 
When sits the soul intense, collected, cool, 
Bright as the skies, and as the season keen. 

Thomson. 

17. The Spring, as she passes along 

With her eye of light, and her lip of song. 

W. G. Clark. 

18. October ! Heaven's delicious breath, 
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, 
And suns grow meek, and the meek sun grows 

brief, 
And the year smiles, as drawing near its death. 

W. C. Bryant. 

19. The April rain ! the April rain ! 

To list the pleasant sound, 
Now soft and still like gentle dew, 

Now drenching all the ground. 
Pray tell me why an April shower 

Is pleasanter to see, 
Than falling drops of other rain ? 

I'm sure it is to thee. 

Mrs. Seba Smith. 

20. Spring, when from yon blue-topp'd mountain 

She leaves her green print 'neath each spreading 
tree, 



118 

Her tuneful voice beside the swelling fountain 
Giving sweet notes to its wild melody. 

Julia H. Scott. 

21. A season atween June and May, 

Half prankt with Spring, with summer half em- 
brown'd. 

Thomson — Castle of Indolence. 

22. When comes the calm, mild day, as still such days 

will come, 

To call the squirrel and the bee from out their win- 
ter home ; 

When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though 
all the trees are still, 

And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the 
rill; 

The south wind searches for the flowers whose 
fragrance late he bore, 

And sighs to find them in the wood, and by the 
stream no mere. 

W. C. Bryant. 

23. Brave Winter and thou shalt ever agree, 
Though a stern and frowning gaffer is he ; 
You like to hear him, with hail and rain, 
Come tapping against the window pane ; 

\ You joy to see him come marching forth, 

<, Begirt with the icicle gems of the north ; 



119 

But you like him best when he comes bedight 
In his velvet robes of stainless white. 

Eliza Cook. 



24. When " adieu I" father Winter has sadly said 

To the world, when about withdrawing, 
With his old white wig half off his head, 
And his icicle fingers thawing! 

Miss H. F. Gould. 

25. Gentle May, 
She with her robe of flowers ; 

She with her sun and sky, her clouds and showers ! 
Who bringeth forth unto the eye of day, 
From their imprisoning and mysterious night, 
The buds of many hues, the children of her light. 

J. Lawrence, Jr. 

26. The last days of Autumn, when the corn 
Lies sweet and mellow in the harvest-field, 
And the gay company of reapers bind 
The bearded wheat in sheaves. 

I. McLellan. 

27. Drear Winter! 
With no unholy awe we hear thy voice, 
As by our dying embers, safely housed, 
We in deep silence muse. 

H. K. White. 



120 

28. You love to go in the capricious days 
Of April, and hunt violets, when the rain 

Is in their blue cups, trembling as they nod 
So gracefully, to kisses of the wind. 

N. P. Willis. 

29. Merry, ever merry May ! 

Made of sun-gleams, shades, and showers, 
Bursting buds, and breathing flowers ; 
Dripping-lock'd, and rosy-vested, 
Violet-slipper'd, rainbow-crested, 
Girdled with the eglantine, 
Festoon'd with the flowering vine ! 

Gallaghek. 

30. When the warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is 

wailing, 
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are 
dying, 

And the year, 
On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves 
dead, 

Is lying. 



Shelley. 



31. When the angel of dread Winter cometh, 
But not in anger. As he speeds along, 
Borne on the chilling wind, he bids appear 
A thousand varied hues the trees among ! 
What magic beauty doth his presence fling 



i 121 

I 

Round every leaf that quivers in the dell, 
Or shrub that to the mountain side doth cling ! 
And the bright scene the calm lake mirrors well, 
As if within its depths were wove some golden spell. 

H. F. Harrington. 

32. Delicious Spring ! 
Nursed in the lap of thin and subtle showers, 

Which fall from clouds that lift their snowy wing 
From odorous buds of light-enfolded flowers, 
And from enmassed bowers, 

That over grassy walks their greenness fling. 

Albert Pike. 

33. The Summer, the radiant Summer's the fairest, 

For green woods and mountains, for meadows 
and bowers, 
For waters and fruits, and for flowers the rarest, 
And for bright shining butterflies, lovely as flow- 
ers. 

Mary Howitt. 

34. When September's golden day, 

Serenely still, intensely bright, 
Fades on the umber'd hills away 
And melts into the coming night. 

Mrs. Whitman 

\ 

i 35. When Autumn chills the foliage, and sheds 
O'er the piled leaves, among the evergreens, 
All colors and all tints to grace the scene. 



Rufus Dawes. ;> 



11 



122 

36. Ho ! jewel-keeper of the hoary North I 

Whence hast thou all thy treasures ? Why, the 

mines 
Of rich Golconda, since the world was young, 
Would fail to furnish such a glorious show ! 

Yes, the Wintry king, 
So long decried, hath revenue more rich 
Than sparkling diamonds ! 

Mrs. Sigourney. 

37. When Spring 
From sunny slopes comes wandering, 
Calling violets from the sleep, 

That bound them under the snow-drift deep, 
To open their childlike, asking eyes 
On the new summer paradise. 

J. R. Lowell. 

38. Autumn ! how lovely is thy pensive air! 

But chief the sounds from thy reft woods delight ; 
Their deep, low murmurs to the soul impart 
A solemn stillness. 

Mrs. Tighe — Psyche. 

39. When Winter nights grow long, 

And winds without blow cold, 
And we sit in a ring round the warm hearth-fire, 
And listen to stories old. 

Barry Cornwall. 



123 | 

40. Spring ; { 
When blushing like a bride from Hope's trim bower, > 
She leaps, awakened by the pattering shower. \ 

■> Coleridge. < 

41. Autumn dark on the mountains ; when gray mists : 

rest on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on \ 

the heath. Dark rolls the river through the \ 

narrow plain. The leaves whirl with the wind, \ 
and strew the graves of the dead. 

O SSI an. \ 

42. When the rosy-bosom'd Hours, \ 

Fair Venus' train, appear ; 
Disclose the long-expected flowers, 

And wake the purple year. 
The attic warbler pours her throat, 
Responsive to the cuckoo's note, 

The untaught harmony of Spring ; 
While, whispering pleasure as they fly, 
Cool zephyrs, through the clear blue sky, 

Their gather'd fragrance fling. 

Gray. 



43. When golden Autumn from her open lap 
The fragrant bounty showers. 

Somerville — 7'Ae Chace. 

44. Dark Winter is a happy time : 

God gives the earth repose, and earth bids man 



124 

Wipe his hot brow ; the poet pours his rhyme, 
And mirth awakes. 

Allan Cunningham. 



45. When Spring-tide approaches ; 
Leaf by leaf is developed, and warm'd by the 

radiant sunshine, 

Blushes with purple and gold, till at last the per- 
fected blossom 

Opens its odorous chalice, and rocks with its crown 
to the breeze. 

Longfellow. 

46. The first day of May, 

When the sun is rejoicing alone in heaven, 

The clouds have all hurried away. 
Down in the meadow the blossoms are waking, 
Light on their twigs the young leaves are shaking, 
Round the warm knolls the lambs are a-leaping, 
The colt from his fold o'er the pasture is sweeping, 

And on the bright lake, 

The little waves break, 
For there the cool west is at play. 

J. G. Percival. 

47. The desolate and dying year, 

Yet lovely in its lifelessness, 
As beauty stretch'd upon the bier, 

In death's clay-cold and dark caress ; 



sr 



■^aaa/vAaaaaa/ 4 



125 

There's loveliness in its decay, 

Which breathes, which lingers on it still. 

J. G. Brooks. 

48. Pale, rugged Winter, bending o'er his tread, 

His grizzled hair bedropi with icy dew ; 
His eyes a dusky light, congeal'd and dead, 
His robe a tinge of bright ethereal blue. 

Chatterton. 

49. The uncertain glory of an April day, 

Which now shows all the beauty of the skies, 
And by and by a cloud takes all away. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

50. When the sun 
More darkly tinges Spring's fair brow, 

And laughing fields have just begun 
The Summer's golden hues to show ; 

Earth still with flowers is richly dight, 
And the last rose in gardens bides to glow. 

George Bancroft. 

51. The pryde, the manhode of the yeare, 

When eke the ground is dight in its most deft 

aumere.f 

Rowley — ( Chatterton.) 

52. An Autumn night 
With a piercing sight, 

And a step both strong and free ; 

* Ornamental. t Mantle. 



126 

And a voice for wonder, 
Like the wrath of the thunder, 
When he shouts to the stormy sea ! 

Barry Cornwall. 

53. When Spring's first gale 
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie. 

Mrs. Hemans. 

54. When 
The breath of Winter comes from far away, 

And the rich west continually bereaves 
Of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay 
Of death among the bushes and the leaves. 

Keats. 

55. When Spring pours out his showers, as is his wont, 
And bathes the breathing tresses of meek eve. 

Collins. 

56. Autumn skies, when all the woods are hung 
With many tints, the fading livery 

Of life, in which it mourns the coming storms 

Of winter ; when the quiet winds awake 

Faint dirges in the wither'd leaves, and breathe 

Their sorrow through the grove. 

Percival. 

57. Sweet. Spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
| A box where sweets compacted lie. 

I Old Herbert. 



127 

58. When a soft haze is hanging o'er the hill, 
Tinged with a purple light. How beautiful, 
And yet how cold ! J Tis the first robe put on 
By sad October. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

59. Spring doeth all she can, I trow ; 
She brings the bright hours, 
She weaves the sweet flowers, 
She dresseth her bowers 

For all below. 

Barry Cornwall. 

60. Spring time. 
Which crumbles Winter's gyves with tender might, 
When in the genial breeze, (the breath of God,) 
Come spouting up the unseal'd springs to light, 
Flowers start from their dark prisons at our feet, 
And woods, long dumb, awake to hymnings sweet. 

Bryant. 



\ WHAT HOUR DO YOU LOVE] 



Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine, 
Deep felt, in these appear ! A simple train 
Yet so delightful, mix'd with such kind art, 
Such beauty and beneficence combined, 
Shade unperceived so softening into shade, 
And all so forming an harmonious whole, 
That as they still succeed, they ravish still. 

Thomson 

The winged Hours ! 
Commission'd in alternate watch they stand, 
The sun's bright portals, and the skies, command ; 
Close or unfold the eternal gates of day, 
Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. 

Dryden's Virgil. 



WHAT HOUR DO YOU LOVE ? 




HEN, from ebon streak, 

The moon puts forth a little diamond 

peak, 
No bigger than an unobserved star, 
Or tiny point of fairy cimeter ; 
Bright signal, that she only stoops to tie 
Her silver sandals, ere deliciously 
She bows into the heavens her timid head. 

Keats. 



When morning cometh, with a still 

And gliding mystery, on the breaking gray 

Of the fresh east. 

W. G. SIMMS. 



When the stars are out — 

Cold, but still beautiful, — a crowded choir, 

Harmonious in their heavenly minstrelsy. 

Rufus Dawes. 



132 

4. When blue-eyed day 
Has yielded up her regency, and night, 
Exceeding beautiful, resumes her right 
As solemn watchman. 

Miss M. E. Lee. 

5. When sunk the sun, and up the eastern heaven, 
Like maiden on a lonely pilgrimage, 

Moves the meek star of eve. 

MlLMAN 

6. When Phcehus, fresh as bridegroom to his mate, 
Comes dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre, 
And hurls his glistering beams through gloomy ayre 

Spenser. 

7. When on the sunlit limits of the night, 

Her white shell trembling amid crimson air, 
Glides the young moon. 

Shelley. 

8. When clouds lay cradled near the setting sun, 
And gleams of crimson tinge their braided snow. 

Wilson. 

^ 9. When the glorious sun has gone, 

\ And the gathering darkness of night comes on ; 

\ Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows, 

\ To shade the couch where his children repose. 
\ H. Ware, Jr. 



133 

'< 10. You love the deep, deep pause, that reigns 

| At highest noon, o'er hills and plains. 

< Carrington. 

j 

I 11. When the stars do disappear, 
i With only one remaining, 

The morning star alone ; 
\ Just like a maid complaining, 

\ When all her hopes are gone. 

\ William Crafts. 

\ 12. When climbs above the eastern bar 

The horned moon, with one bright star 
\ Within the nether lip. 



Coleridge. 



< 13. When comes forth the glorious day, 
Like a bridegroom richly dight, 
l And before his flashing ray 

\ Flies the sullen, vanquish'd night. 

\ S. G. BULFINCH. 



14. When Apollo doth devise 

A new apparelling for western skies. 

15. Ere the evening lamps are lighted, 

And like phantoms, grim and tall, 
Shadows, from the fitful fire-light, 
Dance upon the parlor wall. 



Keats. 



Longfellow. 

L2 ' 



134 

16. When like a dying lady, lean and pale, 
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil, 
Out of her chamber, led by the insane 
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain, 
The moon arises on the murky earth. 

Shelley. 

17. Morning in your garden, when each leaf of crisped 
green 

Hangs tremulous in diamonds, with em'rald rays \ 

between. 

It is the birth of nature, baptized in early dew, 

The plants look meekly up and smile as if their 

God they knew. 

Mrs. Gilman. 

18. Ah, let the gay the roseate morning hail, 
When, in the various blooms of light array'd, 

She bids fresh beauty live along the vale, 
And rapture tremble in the vocal shade. 

Sweet is the lucid morning's opening flower, 
Her choral melodies benignly rise ; 

Yet dearer to your soul the shadowy hour 

At which her blossoms close, her music dies. 
Miss H. M. Williams. 

19. The middle watch of a summer's night, 
When earth is dark, but the heavens are bright ; 
Naught is seen in the vault on high, 
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky, 



135 

And the flood, which rolls its milky hue, 
A river of white on the welkin blue. 

Drake. 

20. When little birds begin discourse, 
In quick, low voices, ere the streaming light 

Pours on their nests from out the day's fresh source. 

R. H. Dana. 

21. Morning, when the sun pours his first light 
Amid a forest, and with ray aslant, 
Entering its depth, illumes the branchless pines, 
Brightening their bark, tinging with redder hue 
Its rusty stains, and casting on the earth 
Long lines of shadow, where they rise erect 
Like pillars of a temple. 

Southey — Madoc. 

22. Sunrise, slanting on a city, when 
The early risen poor are coming in, 
Duly and cheerfully to toil, and up 

Rises the hammer's clink, with the far hum 
Of moving wheels, and multitudes astir, 
And all that in a city murmur swells. 

N. P. Willis. 

23. When the west 
Opens her golden bowers of rest, 
And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 



136 

Of some meek penitent, whose last 
Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 
And whose sweet tears o'er wrong forgiven, 
Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven. 
i Moore — Lalla Rookh. 

< 24. The midnight hour, when 

\ Slow through the studious gloom, thy pausing eye, 

Led by the glimmering taper, moves around 

The sacred volumes of the dead. 

Akenside — Pleasures of the Imagination. 



I 25. When evening's virgin Queen 

\ Sits on her fringed throne serene, 

And mingling whispers, rising near, 
i Steal on the still reposing ear. 

J H. K. White. 

I 26. When the moon riseth as if dreaming, 

Treading with still white feet the lulled sea. 

From the Etonian. 

27. When day hath put on his jacket, and around 
His burning bosom button'd it with stars. 

O. W. Holmes. 

28. Morning, with all her attributes ; the slow 
Impearling of the heavens, the sparkling white 

\ On the webb'd grass, the fragrant mistiness, 

s The fresh airs, with the twinkling leaves at sport, 



137 

And all the gradual and emerging light, 
The crystalline distinctness settling clear, 
And all the wakening of strengthening sound. 

Milman — Lord of the Bright City. 

29. Her twilight robe when nature wears, 

And evening sheds her sweetest tears, 

Which every thirsty plant receives, 

While silence trembles on the leaves. 

From every tree, and flower, and bush, 

There seems to breathe a soothing hush, 

While every transient sound but shows 

How deep and still is the repose. 

Mrs. Follen. 

30. When as the evening shades prevail, 
The moon takes up her wondrous tale, 
And, nightly, to the listening earth 
Proclaims the story of her birth. I 
While all the stars that round her burn, 

And all the planets in their turn, \ 

Confirm the tidings as they roll, j 

And spread the truth from pole to pole. \ 

Addison. I 

31. When thronging constellations rush in crowds, j 

Paving with fire the sky. \ 

Shelley. \ 

32. A beautiful sunset, when warm o'er the lake > 

Its splendor, at parting, a summer eve throws, I 



12* 



138 

Like a bride full of blushes, when lingering to take 
A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes. 
Moore — Lalla Rookh. 

33. The midnight hour, 

The starlight wedding of the earth and heaven, 
When music breathes in perfume from the flower, ; 
And high revealings to the heart are given. 

S. L. Fairfield. t 

34. Weel may'st thou welcome the night's deathly reign, '< 
Wi' souls of the dearest ye're mingling then ; j 
The gowd light o' mornin' is lightless to thee, 
But, oh ! for the night wi' its ghost revelrie. 

William Thom. 

35. Come, stir the fire, and close the shutters fast; 
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round ; 
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups 
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, 
So will you welcome cheerful evening in. 

C o wper — Task. 

36. When the moon 
Bends her new silver bow, as if to fling 
Her arrowy lustre through some vapor's wing. 

\ Park Benjamin. 

37. Be it the summer noon ; a sandy space 
The ebbjng tide has left upon its place, 



139 

While the broad basin of the ocean keeps 
An equal motion, swelling as it sleeps, 
Then, slowly sinking, curling to the strand, 
Faint, lazy waves o'er-creep the ridgy sand. 
Ships in the calm seem anchor'd, for they glide 
On the still sea, urged solely by the tide. 

Crabbe. 

38. Night ; when the stars are gemming heaven, 

And seem like angels' eyes, 
Resuming still their silent watch 

Within the far-off skies. 
When tenderly they gaze on us, 

Those children of the air, 
While every ray they send to us 

Some message seems to bear. 

Miss Lewis. 

39. The Sabbath morn 

So sweet ; — all sounds save nature's voice are still ; 

Mute shepherd's song-pipe, mute the harvest horn, 

A holier tongue is given to brook and rill ; 

Old men climb silently their cottage-hill, 

There ruminate, and look sublime abroad, 

Shake from their feet, as thought on thought comes 

still, 
The dust of life's long, dark, and dreary road, 
And rise from this gross earth, and give the day to 

God. 

Thomas Miller. 



140 

\ 40. When the fair young moon in a silver bow 
I Looks back from the bending west, 

Like a weary soul that is glad to go 
To the long-sought place of rest. 
When her crescent lies in a beaming crown. 

On the distant hill's dark head, 
Serene as the righteous looking down 
On the world from his dying-bed. 

Miss H. F. Gould. 

41. When gleaming through the gorgeous fold 
Of clouds, around his glory rolPd, 

The orb of gold, half hid, half seen, 
Swells his rays of tremulous sheen, 
That, widely as the billows roll, 
Glance quivering on their distant goal. 

Sotheby — Constance de Castile. 

42. When, like lobster boiled, the morn 
From black to red begins to turn. 

B utler — Hudibras. 

\ 43. When in mid air, on seraph wing, 

The paly moon is journeying 

In stillest paths of stainless blue. 
\ Keen, curious stars are peering through 

Heaven's arch this hour ; they dote on her 

With perfect love, nor can she stir 

Within her vaulted halls apace, 



141 

Ere, rushing out with joyous face, 

These Godkins of the sky- 
Smile as she glides in loveliness, 

While every heart beats high 
With passion, and breaks forth to bless 

Her loftier divinity. 

Motherwell. £ 

i 

44. When comes still evening on, and twilight gray > 
Hath in her sober livery all things clad, \ 
Silence accompanying. \ 

Milton — Paradise Lost. < 

I 

45. When calm the grateful air, and loth to lose 

Day's grateful warmth, though moist with falling j 

dews ; { 

Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none ; j; 

Look up a second time, and one by one i 

You mark them twinkle out, with silvery light, > 

And wonder how they could elude your sight. \ 

Wordsworth. [ 
\ 
\ 46. When your fire, with dim unequal light, 

Just glimmering, bids each shadowy image fall J 

Sombrous and strange upon the darkening wall, j 

\ Ere the clear taper chase the deepening night. { 

i W. L. Bowles. \ 

I I 

\ i 

•■ 47. When the sun's broad orb > 

Seems resting on the burnish'd wave, \ 



142 

And lines 
Of purple gold hang motionless, 
Above the sinking sphere. 



Shelley. 



I 48. Morn breaking in the east. When purple clouds 

\ Are putting on their gold and violet, 

\ To look the meeter for the sun's bright coming. 
* N. P. Willis. 



\ 49. When the day 

\ In golden slumber sinks, with accent sweet 

> Mild evening comes, to lure the willing feet 

With her to stray, 
Where'er the bashful flowers the observant eye 
may greet. 

H. Pickering. 

\ 50. The light of midnight skies 

| When the red meteor rides the cloud. 

\ Miss Landon. 

\ 51. When at noon, 

I High on his throne, the visible lord of light 

| Rides in his fullest blaze, and dashes wide 

Thick flashes from his wheels. 
^ J. G. Percival. 

I 52. Night on the waves, when the moon is on high, 
j Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky, 



■^ 



143 

Treading its depths in the power of her might, 
And turning the clouds as they pass her to light. 

J. K. Hervey. 

53. When yonder western throng of clouds 

Retiring from the sky, 
So calmly move, so softly glow, 

They seem, to fancy's eye, 
Bright creatures of a better sphere, 
Come down at noon to worship here, 
And from their sacrifice of love 
Returning to their courts above. 



• \ 

G. D. Prentice. \ 

54. When the moon, her lids unclosing, deigns \ 

To smile serenely on the charmed sea, \ 

That shines, as if inlaid with lightning chains, \ 

From which it hardly struggled to be free. > 

Epes Sargent. < 

I 

55. The high festival of night, I 
When earth is radiant with delight, 

And fast as weary day retires \ 

The heaven unfolds its secret fires, \ 

Bright, as when first the firmament \ 

Around the new-made world was bent, ij 

And infant seraphs pierced the blue, • 
Till rays of heaven came shining through 

W. B. O. Peabody. \ 



\ 144 



56. When the sun \ 

Rises, visiting earth with light, and heat, ) 

And joy ; and seems as full of youth, and strong I 



To mount the steep of heaven, as when the stars 
Of morning sang to his first dawn. 

Pollok — Course of Time. 



58. Night; when a cloud, which through the sky, 
Sailing alone, doth cross in her career 

The rolling moon ; — to watch it as it comes, 
And deem the deep opaque will blot her beams ; 
Bat melting like a wreath of snow, it hangs 
In folds of wavy silver round, and clothes 
The orb with richer beauties than her own ; 
Then, passing, leaves her in her light serene. 

Southey — Madoc. 

59. Thine own loved moon's, 
That every soft and solemn spirit worships ; 
That lovers love so well ; strange joy is hers, 
Whose influence o'er all tides of soul hath power. 
She lends her light to rapture and despair ; 

The glow of hope, and wan hue of sick fancy, 
Alike reflect her rays ; alike they light 



57. Let others hail the oriflamme of morn, 

O'er kindling hills unfurl'd, with gorgeous dyes, \ 

Oh, mild blue evening, still to thee we turn, * 

With holier thoughts and with undazzled eyes. \ 

R. C. Sands. \ 



145 



| The path of meeting or of parting love ; 

\ Alike on mingling or on breaking hearts 

She smiles in throned beauty. 
\ Maturin — Bertram. 



\ 60. Sunrise; 

Rolling back the clouds into 

Vapors more lovely than the unclouded sky, 

I With golden pinnacles and snowy mountains, 

And billows purpler than the ocean's, making 
In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth, 

^ So like, we almost deem it permanent ; 

So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught 

I Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently 

j Scatter'd along the eternal vault ; and yet 

It dwells upon the soul, and sooths the soul, 
And blends itself into the soul, until 
Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch 

$ Of sorrow and of love. 



Byron — Sardanapalus. 



13 



K 



i WHAT MUSICAL SOUNDS DO YOU LOVE ? 



Oh for some soul-affecting scheme 

Of moral music. 

Wordsworth. 

Music, round her creep 

Seek her out, and when you find her, 
Gentle, gentlest music, wind her 

Round and round, 

Round and round, 
With your bands of softest sound. 

Barry Cornwall. 



WHAT MUSICAL SOUNDS DO YOU LOVE? 



HE sweet and solemn sound 
Of Sabbath worshippers. 

W. C. Bryant. 

2. The bugle, silver-tipp'd, 

That with a breath, long-drawn, 

and slow-expiring, 

Sends forth that strain, which, echoing through the 

wilds, 

Tells of a loved one's glad return. 

Southey. 




3 The voice of waters, and the sheen 
Of silver fountains leaping to the sea. 



N. P. Willis. 



The humbee singing 
Drowsily among the flowers, 

Sleepily, sleepily, 
In the noontide swayeth he, 
Half balanced on a slender stalk. 



J. R. Lowell. 



13* 



150 < 

< 

5. One voice, in its low, musical depth, i 
More dear and thrilling than the crowds' applause ; \ 
Even as the far-off murmur of the surge, \ 
Heard at hush'd eve, is sweeter than the homage J 
Of waves tumultuous, dashing at your feet. 

Mrs. Ellet. [ 

j 

6. Small voices, and an old guitar, \ 
Winning their way to an unguarded heart. \ 

Rogsrs — Italy. \ 

> 

7. When soft music comes to thine ear, as thou liest \ 

at night, thine eyes half closed in sleep, and thy $ 

soul as a stream flowing at pleasant sounds. \ 

It is like the rising breeze that whirls at first the \ 

thistle's beard, then flies dark-shadowy over the < 



8. Kissing cymbals making merry din. 



9. Merry cricket, twittering thing I 
How you love to hear it sing ! 
Chirping tenant, child of mirth, 
Minstrel of the poor man's hearth. 



Ossian. 



Keats. 



Eliza Cook. 



\ 10. The wild enchanting horn f 

Whose music up the deep and dewy air 



151 

Swells to the clouds, and calls on echo there, 
Till a new melody is born. 

Grenville Mellen. 

11. Soft Lydian airs 

Married to immortal verse ; 
Such as meeting soul may pierce, 
In notes, with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, 
The melting voice through mazes running, 
Untwisting all the cords that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony. 

Milton — L 'Allegro. 

) 12. Words to the witches in Macbeth unknown ; 

Hydraulics, hydrostatics, and pneumatics, 
\ Chlorine, and iodine, and cerostatics. 



13. The light guitar; 

Its holiest time the evening star, 
When liquid voices echo far. 



Halleck. 



J. G. Percival. 



I 14. Cataracts that blow their trumpets from the steep ! 

\ Wordsworth. 

I 

f 15. Through your very heart it thrilleth, 

/ When from crimson-threaded lips 

\ Silver-treble laughter trilleth. 



Tennyson. 



I 152 

\ 

\ 16. The cricket's chirp, and the answer shrill 

\ Of the gauze- winged katydid. 

'> J. R. Drake. 

\ 

I 17. Naught as the music of praise and prayer 
Is half so sweet. 

\ BOWRING. 

18. Notes heard far off; so far, as but to seem 
Like the faint exquisite music of a dream. 

Moore. 

19. A solemn dirge; now swelling high 

In lofty strains, and now in cadence soft, 
Seeming to die away upon the ear ; 
Then swelling loud again, reaching the skies, 
As if to mingle with the music there. 

Mrs. Dana. 

20. Distance-mellow 'd song, 

From bowers of merriment. 

Southey. 

21. The melancholy strain of that sad bird 

Who sounds at night the warning note, that shuts 
The delicate young flowers. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

22. The glad voice, the laughing voice of streams, 
And the low cadence of the silvery sea. 

\ Mrs. Hemans. 



I 153 

i 23. Old songs of love and sorrow. 



Mary Howitt. 



24. . The lively air 
When love enlists the serenaded s skill. 

Mrs. Dana. 

25. The musical confusion 
Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

Midsummer NighVs Dream. 

26. When o'er the clear still water swells 
The music of the Sabbath bells. 

W. C. Bryant. 

27. A deep and thrilling song, 

Which seems with piercing melody to reach 
The soul, and in mysterious union 
Blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love. 

Southey. 

\ 28. Ever wakeful echo ; 

The nymph of sportive mockery, that still 
Hides behind every rock and every dell, 
And softly glides, unseen, from hill to hill ; 
No sound doth rise but mimic it she will. 

Theodore Fay. 



29. The sounding Viol ; 

When eyes with speaking glances, 



154 

Kindle high with pleasure, 
As rings the well-known strain ; 
With easy gliding motion, 
Involved in graceful fancies, 
Of light uncertain measure, 
Responds the fairy train. 

J. G. Pjercival. 

30. Low whisperings in boats, 

As they shoot through the moonlight, with drippings 
of oars. 

Moore. 

\ 31. The "hunter's shout, 

\ When clanging horns swell their sweet winding 

< notes, 

The pack wide-opening on the trembling air 
$ With various melody, 

s Somerville — The Chace. 

\ 32. The sounds awaken'd there 

5 In the Pine leaves fine and small, 

5 Soft and sweetly musical, 

By the fingers of the air. 
\ J. G. Whittier. 

33. The song of spirits that will sometimes sail 
Close to the ear, a deep, delicious stream, 
Then sweep away, and die with a low wail. 

Croly — Angel of the World. 

9£ 



155 

34. The roar 
Of ocean's everlasting surges, 
Tumbling upon the beach's hard-beat floor, 
Or sliding backward to the shore, 

To meet the landward wave, and slowly plunge 

once more. 

J. R. Lowell. 

35. The rivulet, which 

Sending glad sounds, and tripping o'er its bed 

Of pebbly sands, or leaping down the rocks, 

Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice 

In its own being. 

W. C. Bryant. 

36. A damsel singing to herself 

A song of love by snatches ; breaking off 

If but a flower, an insect on the wing 

Please for an instant, then as carelessly 

The strain resuming. 

Rogers — Italy. 

37. The sound of the church-going bell, 

When it bursts on the ear with its full, rich swell. 

Miss M. Davidson. 

38. The brisk, awakening viol, 
Whose sweet, entrancing voice you love the best. 

Collins. 

39. The blackbird's merry chant. Bold plunderer ! 
How sweet to hear his mellow burst of song 



156 

Float from his watch-place on the mossy tree, 
Close at the cornfield's edge ! 

J. McLellan. 

40. The sound of music at even-fall, 
Filling the heart 
With a flow of thought and feeling sweet, 
When lips that we love breathe forth the song. 

Louisa P. Smith. 



41. The harp Eolian ; 
Faintly at first it begins, scarce heard, and gentle \ 

its rising, 

Low as the softest breath that passes at summer 
evening ; 

Then, as it swells and mounts up, the thrilling 
melody deepens, 

Till a mightier, holier virtue comes with its power- 
ful tone. 

SOUTHEY. 

42. The chirp of birds, blithe voices, lowing lane, 
\ The dash of waters, reed, or rustic pipe, 

Blent with the dulcet, distance-mellow'd bell. 

I HlLLHOUSE. 

\ 43. A song of love and jollity e, 

To drive away dull melancholy. 

I Spenser. 



SI 

\ 157 

\ 44. Preluding low, soft notes that faint and tremble, 
Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep ; 
j While such sensations in the soul assemble, 

\ As make it pleasant to the eyes to weep. 

? Mrs. Maria Brooks. 

j 45. Song of maids beneath the moon, 
\ With fairy laughter blent. 

W. C. Bryant. 

46. To hear the glorious swell 

Of chanted psalm and prayer, 
And the deep organ's bursting heart 
Throb through the shivering air. 

J. R. Lowell. 

47. A noise like of a hidden brook, 

In the leafy month of June, 
That to the sleeping woods all night 
Singeth a quiet tune. 

Coleridge. 

48. Approaching trumpets, that with quavering start, 
On the smooth wind come dancing to the heart. 

Leigh Hunt — Rimini. 

\ 

| 49. A laugh full of life, without any control 

\ But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from the 

j soul. 

I Moore — Lalla Rookh. 

14^ 



158 I 



50. Fifes, cornets, drums, 

That rouse the sleepy soul to arms, and bold 

Heroic deeds 

Somerville — The Chace. 



$51. A Utile song, 

Neither sad nor very long. 



Barry Cornwall. 



52. A voice of music in the rustling leaves, 

When the green boughs are hung with living lutes, 

Whose strings will only vibrate to His hand 

Who made them. 

Miss H. F. Gould. 

53. The drums beat in the mornin', afore the scriech o' 

day, 

And the wee, wee fifes piped loud and shrill, while 

yet the morn is gray. 

Motherwell 

54. The unseen hawk 
Whistling to clouds, and sky-born streams. 

Wordsworth 

55. The low, sweet shell, 

By whose far music shall thy soul be haunted. 
\ Miss Landon. 

56. The trumpet' 's war-note proud, 

The trampling and the hum ! 

Macaulay. 



159 

57. A pattering sound 
Of ripen'd acorns, rustling to the ground 
Through the crisp, wither 'd leaves. 

Mrs. Whitman. 

58. Birds and brooks from leafy dells, 
Chiming forth unwearied canticles. 

Wordsworth. 

59. When the organ peal, loud rolling, meets 
The halleluiahs of the choir; sublime, 
A thousand notes symphoniously ascend, 
As if the whole were one; suspended high 
In air, soaring heavenward, afar they float, 
Wafting glad tidings to the sick man's couch. 

Grahame — The Sabbath. 

60. Tinklings of a vigilant guitar, 

Of sleepless lover to a wakeful mistress. 

Byron 



WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER] 



I would I had some flowers of the Spring that might 
Become your time of day ; and yours ; — and yours. 

Winter's Tale. 

I send thee flowers, oh dearest, and I deem 
That from their petals thou wilt hear sweet words, 
Whose music, sweeter than the voice of birds, 
When breathed to thee alone, perchance may seem 
All eloquent of feelings unexpress'd. 

Park Benjamin. 

A garland lay him by, made by himself 

Of many several flowers. 

Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness 

Delighted me. 

Beaumont and Fletcher. 



14* 



WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER ? 




HE sensitive plant, the earliest 
Up-gathered unto the bosom of rest, 
A sweet child, weary of its delight, 
The feeblest, and yet the favorite, 
Cradled within the embrace of night. 
Shelley. 



2. The jasmine; 

Pride of Carolina's early Spring ! 

Fairy land 
Is not more beautiful, than when, full blown, 
The jasmine, gilt by the Creator's hand, 
Hangs all around us. 

Mrs. Dana. 



3. Hyacinths, ringing their soft bells 
To call the bees from the anemonies, 
Jealous of their bright rivals' glowing wealth. 

Miss Landon. 



IC 



164 

4. Primroses, 
Which, when the lengthen'd shadows fall 

Like soft dreams o'er the earth, 
And all around a sabbath reigns 

As at creation's birth, 
Burst the magic bands of clay, 
And greet with smiles the sun's last ray. 

Miss M. E. Lee. 

5. The chaste camel-id's pure and spotless bloom, 
That boasts no fragrance, and conceals no thorn. 

W. Roscoe. 



\ 6. The light snoivdrops, which, starting from their cells, 

I Hang each pagoda with their silver bells. 

\ O. W. Holmes. 

7. A tulip, which Titania may have chosen 
For rest or revelry, to feast or doze in. 

Miss Moise. 

8. Roses, 
Beautiful each, but different all ; 
One with that pure but crimson flush, 
That marks a maiden's first love blush ; 

\ One, 

\ Pale as the snow of the funeral stone ; 

] Another, rich as the damask die 

j Of a monarch's purple drapery ; 



165 < 

I 

And one hath leaves like the leaves of gold 

Worked on that drapery's royal fold. I 

Miss Landon. £ 

! 

9. The hare-hell on the heath, $ 

The forest tree beneath, f 

Which springs like elfin dweller of the wild ; \ 

Light as a breeze astir j 

Stemm'd with the gossamer, \ 

Soft as the blue eyes of a poet's child. j 

Mary Howitt. I 



10. Thou sweet daisy, common-place 
Of nature, with that homely face, 
And yet, with something of a grace, 
Which love makes for thee ! 



Wordsworth. 5 

11 The good old passion-flower ! \ 

It bringeth to thy mind \ 

The young days of the Christian church, \ 

Dim ages left behind. ? 

Mary Howitt. \ 

12. Sweet peas on tiptoe for a flight, \ 

With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, \ 
And taper fingers, catching at all things, 
To bind them round about with tiny rings. 



166 

13. Heart's ease. One could look for half a day 
Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out 
Full twenty different tales of love and sorrow, 
That gave this gentle name. 

Mary Howitt. 

14. The humble rosemary, 
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 

To scent the dead. 

Moore. 

I 15. The primrose, all bepearl'd with dew, 
So yellow, green, and richly too. 
Ask you why the stalk is weak, 
And bending, yet it doth not break ? 
I must tell you these discover 
What doubts and fears are in a lover. 

Carew. 

16. Those greater far than all 

Our blessed Lord did see, 
The lilies beautiful, which grew 
In the fields of Galilee ! 



Mary Howitt. 



17. A little flower, which 

Before the bolt of Cupid fell milk-white, 

Now purple with love's wound, 
And maidens call it love-in-idleness. 

Midsummer Night's Dream. 



167 

18. The lilac, various in array — now white, 

Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set 
With purple spikes pyramidal, as if, 
Studious of ornament, yet unresolved 
Which hue she most approved, she chose them all. 

Cowper. 

19. King-cup, with its canary hue ; 
'Twas from this goblet Psyche drew 
The nectar for her butterflies. 

Miss Moise. 

20. Jasmine, with her pale stars shining through 
The myrtle darkness of her leafs green hue. 

Mrs. Norton. 

21. The water-lilies, that glide so pale, 
As if with constant care 

Of the treasures which they bear ; 

For those ivory vases hold 

Each a sunny gift of gold. 

Miss Landon. 

22. Daffodils, 
That come before the swallow dares, 
And take the winds of March with beauty. 

Winter's Tale. 

23. Sweet wild-flowers, that hold their quiet talk 

Upon the uncultured green. 

Mrs. Gilman. 



168 

24. The virgin lilies in their white, 
Clad but with the lawn of almost naked white. 

Cowley. 

25. The hyacinth, for constancy, wi' its unchanging \ 

blue. 

Burns. 

26. Blue pelloret, from purple leaves up-slanting 

A modest gaze, like eyes of a young maiden, 

Shining beneath dropp'd lids, the evening of her 

wedding. 

Drake. 

27. A tulip just open'd, offering to hold 

A butterfly gaudy and gay, 
Or rocking its cradle of crimson and gold, 
Where the careless young slumberer lay. 

Miss Gould. 

28. She comes — the first, the fairest thing 
That heaven upon the earth doth fling, 

Ere winter's star has set ; 

She dwells behind her leafy screen, 

$ And gives as angels give — unseen, — 

The violet! 

Barry Cornwall. 

29. The rich magnolia, 

High priestess of the flowers, whose censer fills 
The air. 



Mrs. Sigourney. 



.fig 



I 169 

£ 30. Cereus, 

i Who wastes on night's dull eye a blaze of charms. 

i Darwin. 



| 31. The scarlet creeper's bloom, 

When 'midst her leaves the humbird's varying dyes 
Sparkle like half-seen fairy eyes. 

\ Dr. S. H. Dickson. 

I 32. You love the sweet geranium's smell, 

Its scollop'd leaves, and crimson flower ; 
Of days long passed it seems to tell, 
| And memory owns its magic power. 

I Miss Maria James. 



33. The wayside weed of homeliest hue, 
Looking erect up to the golden blue. 

For thus it speaketh to the thinking mind — 

" O'erlook me not : I for a purpose grew ; 

On us one sunshine falls !" 

Thomas Miller. 

34. The last violet 

That sheds its fragrance on the chill, damp air 
Of a November morn, like love in death. 

Lady Flora Hastings. 

35. The peony, with drooping head, 

Which blows a transient hour, 
And gently shaken in the breeze, 
Descends a crimson shower. 

Miss Maria James. 



15 



170 \ 



36. The hlue fleur-de-lis, in the warm sunlight shining. 
As if grains of gold in its petals were set. 

Mary Howitt. 



37. The pale and delicate narcissus' flowers, 
Bending so languidly, as still they found 
In the pure wave a love and destiny. 

Miss Landon. 

38. The violet's azure eye, 
Which gazes on the sky, 

Until its hue grows like what it beholds. 

Shelley. 



39. The evening 'primrose. 

O'er which the wind might gladly take a pleasant \ 

sleep, 

But that 'tis ever startled by the leap $ 

Of buds into fresh flowers. \ 

Keats. \ 



40. The clematis, all graceful and fair ; \ 
You may set it like pearls in the folds of your hair. ? 

Mrs. A. M. Wells. 

\ 

41. The tulip, I 
Whose passionate leaves with their ruby glow 

Hide the heart that is burning and black below. 

Miss Landon. 



171 



42. The almond, though its branch is sere, 
With myriad blossoms beautiful ; 
As pink, as is the shell's inside. 

Mary Howitt. 



43. 


Lilies for a bridal bed, 




Roses for a matron's head, 




Violets for a maiden dead— 


\ 


Pansies let thy flower be. 


\ 


Shelley. 


44. 


The barberry-bush, 




Whose yellow blossoms hang, 




As when a child by grassy lane 




Along you lightly sprang. 

Mrs. Gilman. 


| 45. 


The shower 




Wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower 




One half so lovely as the sweet brier ; 




— for it grows along 




The poor man's pathway, by the poor man's door. 




Brainerd. 


\ 46. 


The low dwarf acacia, that droops as it grows, 




And the leaves, as you gather them, tremble and 




close. 




Mrs. A. M. Wells. 


47. 


The cowslip, that, bending 




With its golden bells, 



172 

Of each glad hour's ending, 
With a sweet chime tells. 

Miss Landon. 

48. The beautiful clover, so round and red ; 

There is not a thing in twenty, 

That lifts in the morning so sweet a head, 

Above its leaves on its earthly bed, 

With so many horns of plenty. 

\ Miss H. F. Gould. 

c 

^49. A lily flower, 

The old Egyptian's emblematic mark 
Of joy immortal, and of pure affection. 

\ Wordsworth. 

\ 50. Mignionetie, the little nun, 

\ In meekness shedding soft perfume. 

Miss P. Moise. 

\ 51. The heliotrope, whose gray and heavy wreath 
Mimics the orchard blossom's fruity breath, 

Mrs. Norton. 

| 52. The timid jasmine-buds, that keep 
Their odors to themselves all day, 
But when the sunlight dies away, 
Let the delicious secret out. 



L 



Moore. 



173 

53. Violets dim, 

But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 

Or Cytherea's breath. 

Winter's Tale. 

54. Fox-glove, whose purple vest conceals 

Its hollow heart. 

Miss Moise. 

55. The housatonia cerulea, 
Its snowy circle ray'd 

With crosslets, bending its pearly whiteness round, 
While the spreading lips are bound 

With such a mellow shade, 

As in the vaulted blue 
Deepens at midnight, or grows pale 
When mantled in the full moon's slender veil. 

Percival. 

56. The lily, 
Imperial beauty, fair unrivall'd one ! 

What flower of earth has honor high as thine, 
To find thy name on His unsullied lips 
Whose eye was light from heaven ! 

Miss H. F. Gould. 

57. The little wind/lower, whose just open'd eye 
Is blue as the Spring heaven it gazes at ; 
Startling the loiterer in naked paths 
With unexpected beauty. 

W. C. Bryant. 



15* 



174 

58. The trailing arbutus, shrouding its grace, j 

Till fragrance bewrayeth its hiding-place. \ 

Mrs. Sigourney. 



59. The woodbine wild, 
That loves to hang on barren boughs remote 
Her wreaths of flowery perfume. 

W. Mason — The English Garden. 

60. The Naiad-like lily of the vale, 

Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale, 
That the light of its tremulous bells is seen 
Through their pavilions of tender green. 

Shelley. 






YOUR AFFECTIONS? 



We like not most what most is twin to self, 
But that which best supplies the void within. 



-% 



WHAT GRATIFIES YOUR TASTE, OR YOUR 
AFFECTIONS? 




O walk in choice gardens, 

And from variety of curious flowers 

Contemplate nature's workmanship 

and wonders. 

Massinger. 

You love to wander by old ocean's side, 
And hold communion with its sullen tide, 
To climb the mountain' 's everlasting wall, 
And linger where the thunder-waters fall. 

Sprague. 



3. Happy children at their play, 

Whose hearts run over into song. 



J. R. Lowell. 



\ 4. Dogs of grave demeanor, 

\ All meekness, gentleness, though large of limb. 

< Rogers — Italy. 



178 

5. Old legends of the monkish page, 
Traditions of the saint and sage, 
Tales that have the rime of age 
And character of eld. 



Longfellow 



6. Gentleman. — A lock, a leaf, 

That some dear girl has given ; 
Frail record of an hour, as brief 
As sunset clouds in heaven, 
But spreading purple twilight still 
High over memory's shadow'd hill. 

O. W. Holmes. 



6. Lady. — There's little that you care for now, 
Except a simple wedding ring. 

Thomas Miller. 

7. Fruits that have just begun 
To flush on the side that is next the sun. 

H. F. Gould. 

8. Gentleman. — You do wish that you could be 
A sailor, on the rolling sea ; 

In the shadow of the sails 

You would ride and rock all day, 

Going whither blow the gales, 

As you've heard the seamen say. 

L. S. Noble. 



sr 



179 

8. Lady. — By the low cradle thou delight'st to sit 
Of sleeping infants, watching their soft breath. 

Charlotte Smith. 

9. You like a ring, an ancient ring, 

Of massive form, and virgin gold ; 

As firm, as free from base alloy \ 

As were the sterling hearts of old. \ 

G. W. Doane. \ 



Clear glass, 

Where as you bend to look, just opposite, 



10. There's a room you love dearly, the sanctum of \ 

bliss, \ 

That holds all the comforts you least like to miss ; 
Where, like ants in a hillock, you run in and out, 
Where sticks grace the corner, and hats lie about, > 
With book-shelves, where tomes of all sizes are 

spread, i 

Not placed to be look'd at, but meant to be read. 

Eliza Cook. 

11. Gentleman. — Ah, how glorious to be free, 

Your good dog by your side, 
With rifle hanging on your arm, 
To range the forest wide. 



E. Peabody. 



11. Lady. — To look into the smooth \ 



180 

A shape within the polish'd frame appears 
Bending to look on you. 

Milton, modified. 

12. Your sociable piazza, — you prize its quiet talk, 
When arm in arm with one you love you tread the 

accustom'd walk, 
Or loll within your rocking-chair, not over nice or 

wise, 

And yield the careless confidence where heart to 

heart replies. 

Mrs. Gilman. 

13. An eye that will mark 

Your coming, and look brighter when you come. 

Byron. 

14. Give you a slight flirtation, 

By the light of a chandelier, 
With music to fill up the pauses 
And nobody very near. 



N. P. Willis. 



15. Give all things else their honor due, 
But gooseberry-pie is best. 



SOUTHEY. 



16. An ever drizzling raine upon the lofte, 

Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the 

sownde 
Of murmuring bees. I 

I Spenser — Fairy Queen. \ 



181 

IT. Oh, sweeter than the marriage feast, 
'Tis sweeter far to thee, 
To walk together to the kirk 
With a goodly company. 

Coleridge — Ancient Mariner. 

18. The world below hath not for thee 

Such a fair and glorious sight, 
As a noble ship on a rippling sea 
In the clear and full moonlight. 

Eliza Cook. 

19. Gentleman. — A nolle horse, 
With flowing back, firm chest, and fetlocks clean, 
The branching veins ridging the glossy lean, 
The mane hung sleekly, the projecting eye 
That to the stander near looks awfully, 
The finish'd head in its compactness free, 
Small, and o'er-arching to the bended knee, 
The start and snatch, as if he felt the comb, 
With mouth that flings about the creamy foam, 
The snorting turbulence, the nod, the champing, 
The shift, the tossing, and the fiery tramping. \ 

Leigh Hunt — Rimini. < 

19. Lady. — Your witless puss ; \ 

While many a stroke of fondness glides \ 

Along her back and tabby sides, \ 

Dilated swells her glossy fur, \ 

s 

And softly sings her busy pur ; v ^ 



16 



182 

As timing well the equal sound, 
Her clutching feet bepat the ground, 
And all their harmless claws disclose 
Like prickles of an early rose, 
While softly from her whisker'd cheek 
The half-closed eyes peer mild and meek. 

Joanna Baillie. 

20. The tall larch sighing in the burial place, 

Or willow trailing low its boughs, to hide 

The gleaming marble. 

W. C. Bryant. 

21. The dance, 

Pleasant with graceful flatteries. 

Miss Landon. 

22. You rather look on smiling faces, 

And linger round a cheerful hearth, 

Than mark the stars' bright hiding-places, 

As they peep out upon the earth. 

Mrs. Welby. 

23. Wreathy shells, with lips of red, 

On a beach of whiten'd sand. 

Hosmer. 

24. When to the startled eye the sudden glance 
Appears far south, eruptive, through the cloud, 
And following slower, in explosion vast, 
The thunder raises his tremendous voice. 

Thomson — Seasons. 



s 183 

\ 

\ 25. Gentleman. — " 'Tis heaven to lounge upon a 

^ couch," said Gray, 

" And read new novels through a rainy day." 
Add but the Spanish weed, the bard was right. 

\ Spjrague. 

\ 

\ 25. Lady. — Your moralizing knitting- work, whose 
\ threads most aptly show 

How evenly around life's span our busy threads 
\ should go ; 

And if a stitch perchance should drop, as life's frail 

\ stitches will, 

5 How, if we patient take it up, the work will prosper 

| still. 

| Mrs. Gilman. 

\ 26. 'Tis pleasant, by the cheerful hearth, to hear 
| Of tempests, and the dangers of the deep, 

> And pause at times, and feel that we are safe, 

\ Then listen to the perilous tale again, 

And with an eager and suspended soul 
\ Woo terror to delight us. 

Southey — Madoc. 

27. The moon, 

Which kisseth every where, with silver lip, 

Dead things to life. 
| Keats. 

j 28. The insect, that when evening comes, 

I Small though he be, and scarce distinguishable, 



184 

Unsheaths his wings, and through the woods and 

glades 

Scatters a marvellous splendor. 

Rogers — Italy. 

29. When down the green lane come heart-peals of 

laughter, 
For school has sent its eldest inmates forth, 
And when a smaller band comes dancing after, 
Filling the air with shouts of infant mirth. 

Mrs. Scott. 

30. A couch near to a curtaining, 
Whose airy texture, from a golden string 
Floating, into the room permits appear 
Unveil'd, the summer heaven, blue and clear. 

Keats. 

31. Dear to your heart are the scenes of your child- 

hood, 
When fond recollection presents them to view, 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild- 
wood, 
And every loved spot which your infancy knew. 

WoODWORTH. 

32. To seek the patient fisher's silent stand, 
Intent, your angle trembling in your hand ; 
With looks unmoved to lure the scaly breed, 
And eye the dancing cork and bending reed. 

Pope. 



■11 



185 

33. Converse, which qualifies for solitude, 
As exercise for salutary rest. 

Young — Night Thoughts. 

34. Gentleman. — To follow, fleetest of the fleet, 
The red deer, driven along its native plains, 
With cry of hound and horn. 

Wordsworth. 

34. Lady. — One wild-flower from the path of love, 

All lowly though it lie, 
Is dearer than the wreath that waves 
To stern ambition's eye. 

H. T. TlJCKERMAN. 

35. The laugh-provoking pun; absurd 
Though it be, far-fetched, hard to be discern'd, 
It serves the purpose if it shake our sides. 

Grahame. 



36. You have a wish, and it is this — that in some un- 
couth glen, 
It were your lot to find a spot, unknown by selfish 

men, 
Where you might be securely free, like eremite of 

old, 
From worldly guile, from woman's wile, and friend- 
ships brief and cold. 

Motherwell. 



16* 



\ . 186 

\ 

> 37. You love the fields, the woods, the streams, 

\ The wild-flowers fresh and sweet, 

? And yet you love no less than these 

\ The crowded city street ; 

s For haunts of men, where'er they be, 

| Awake your deepest sympathy. 

5 Mary Howitt. <, 

I 38. Sleep, — soft closer of our eyes, 

i Low murmurer of tender lullabies. 

I Keats. jj 

I 

39. You love the sweet Sabbath, that bids in repose 

The plough in its mid- furrow stand. 

Dr. Gilman. 

40. Pleasant it is when woods are green, 

And winds are soft and low, 
To lie amid some sylvan scene, 
Where, the long drooping boughs between, 
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen 

Alternate come and go. 

Longfellow. 

| 41. Gentleman. — To beat the surges under you, 

I And ride upon their backs ; to tread the water 

Whose enmity you flung aside, and breast 

s The surge most swollen, that meets you ; your bold 

I head 

\ 'Bove the contentious waves keeping, and oar 

. A 



187 

Yourself with your good arms, in lusty stroke 
To the shore. 

Tempest. 

41. Lady. — Beside the dimness of the glimmering sea, 
with a dear friend to linger, 
Beneath the gleams of the silver stars. 
s Shelley. 

\ 42. To pluck some way-side flower, 
\ And press it in the choicest nook 

Of a much-loved and oft-read hook. 
\ J. R. Lowell. 

\ 43. A wheel-footed studying-chair, 
\ Contrived both for toil and repose, 

> Wide-elbow'd, and wadded with care, 

In which you both scribble and doze. 

COWPER. 



44. Gentleman. — Hurrah for you ! the wind is up, it 
bloweth fresh and free, 
And every chord, instinct with life, pipes out its fear- 
less glee ; 
Big swell the bosom'd sails with joy, and they mad- 
ly kiss the spray, 
As proudly through the foaming surge the sea-king 
bears away. 

Motherwell. 



188 

44. Lady. — To place your lips to a spiral shell, 
And breathe through every fold ; 
Or look for the depth of its pearly cell, 
\ As a miser would look for gold. 

I Miss H. F. Gould. 



45. Gentleman. — The soil to tread 

Where man hath nobly striven, 
And life like incense hath been shed 
An offering unto heaven. 

Mrs. Hemans. 



45. Lady. — The old study-corner by a nook, 
Crowded with volumes of the old romance. 

N. P. Willis. 

46. Ay, 'tis to you a glorious sight 

To gaze on ocean's ample face ; 
An awful joy, a deep delight, 

To see his laughing waves embrace 
Each other, in their frolic race. 

George Lunt. 



47. You love the pictures that you see 
At times in some old gallery ; 
You love them, although art may deem 
Such pictures of but light esteem. 

Mary Howitt. 



189 



I 48. Gentleman. — A brown cigar, 

A special, smooth-skinn'd, real Havanna. 
I Motherwell. 

\ 48. Lady. — Your quiet, pleasant chamber, with the 

I rose-vine 

\ Woven round the casement. 

j! Miss Mitford. 

\ 49. Old books to read ! 

\ Ay, bring those nodes of wit, 

The brazen-clasp'd, the vellum writ, 

Time-honor'd tomes. 

Henry Carey. 

50. A youthful mother to her infant smiling, 
Who with spread arms, and dancing feet, 
And cooing voice, returns an answer sweet. 

Joanna Baillie. 

51. Gentleman. — To be toss'd on the waves alone, or 

mid the crew 
Of joyous comrades, now the reedy marge 
Clearing, with strenuous arm dipping the oar. 

Wordsworth. 

51. Lady. — When the sail is slack, the course is slow, 

That at your leisure, as you coast along, 

You may contemplate, and from every scene 

Receive its influence. 

Rogers. 



190 | 

52. An antique chair, 
Cushion'd with cunning luxury. 

N. P. Willis. 

53. You love a hand that meets your own 

With grasp that causes some sensation ; 
You love a voice whose varying tone 
From truth has learn'd its modulation. 

Mrs. Osgood. 

54. When each and all come crowding round to share 

A cordial greeting, the beloved sight ; 
When welcomings of hand and lip are there, 

And when these overflowings of delight 
Subside into a sense of quiet bliss, 
Life hath no purer, deeper happiness. 

Southey. 

55. Oh yes, the poor man's garden ! 

It is great joy to thee, 
This little, precious piece of ground, 

Beside his door to see. 
For in the poor man's garden grow 

Far more than herbs and flowers, 
Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, 

And joy for weary hours. 



56. To be sad, and say nothing. 



Mary Howiti. 



As You Like It. 



191 

57. Sweet poetry, the alchymy 

Which turneth all it toucheth into gold. 

Mrs. Dana. 

58. Gentleman. — With a swimmer's stroke 
To fling the billows back from your drench 'd hair, 
And laughing from your lip the audacious brine ; 

— — rising o'er 

The waves as they arise, and prouder still 
The loftier they uplift thee ; then, exulting, 
With a far-dashing stroke, and drawing deep 
The long suspended breath, again to spurn 
The foam which breaks around thee, and pursue 
Thy track like a sea-bird. 

Byron — The Two Foscari. 



58. Lady. — A needle, which though it be small and 
tender, 
Yet it is both a maker and a mender, 
A grave reformer of old rents decay'd, 
Stops holes, and seams, and desperate cuts dis- 

play'd ; 
And for your country's quiet, you would like 
That womankind should use no other pike. 
It will increase their peace, enlarge their store, 
To use their tongues less, and their needles more. 
The needle's sharpness profit yields and pleasure, 
But sharpness of the tongue bites out of measure. 
John Taylor — Needle's Excellency. 



192 

59. Infant charms, 
Unconscious fascination, undesign'd ; 
The orison repeated in your arms, 

The book, the bosom on your knee reclined, 
The low sweet fairy lore to con. 

Campbell — Gertrude of Wyoming. 

60. With Shakspeare's self to speak and smile alone, 
And no intruding visitation fear 

To shame the unconscious laugh, or stop your 
sweetest tear. 

Campbell — Gertrude of Wyoming. 



FOR WHAT HAVE YOU A DISTASTE 
OR AVERSION] 



" I do not like you, Dr. Fell— 
" The reason why I cannot tell ; 
" But this I know full well, 
" I do not like you, Dr. Fell." 



FOR WHAT HAVE YOU A DISTASTE OR 
AVERSION? 




ENTLEMAN.— Three loud talking 

women, 
That are discoursing of the newest \ 

fashion. \ 

John Tobin. i 



1. Lady. — Ye say, " There is naething I hate like the 

men, 

" But the deuce gae wi'm to believe me." 

Burns. 

2. The banquet-hall, the play, the ball, 

Have lost their charms for thee. 

G. P. Morris. 

3. It's hardly in a body's power 

To keep at times frae being sour, 

To see how things are shared ; 

How best o' chiels are whiles in want, 

While coofs on countless thousands rant, 

And ken na how to wair't. 

Burns. 



196 

4. Oh, it is sad to look upon 

The play-place of our youthful hours, 
And mark what wasting change hath run 

As fire amid its bowers, 
And sear'd its greenwood tree, and left 
A trunk all blacken'd and bereft ! 

J. W. Miller. 

5. Conversation, when reduced to say 

The hundredth time what you have said before. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 

6. You never speak the word farewell 

But with an utterance faint and broken, 
A heart-sick yearning for the time 
When it shall never more be spoken. 

Bowles. 

7. Gentleman. — Now, my lord, as for tripe, it's your 

utter aversion. 

Goldsmith — Haunch of Venison. 

7. Lady. — An exquisite of the highest stamp. 
\ Albert Pike. 

| 8. To see 

\ Things of no better mould 

Than thou thyself art, greedily 
\ In Fame's bright page enroll 'd. 



Motherwell. 



197 



| 9. Weaving spiders. — \ 

\ Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence ! $ 

< Midsummer Night's Dream. \ 

<, 10 You have no taste for pomp and strife, \ 

} Which others love to find ; j 

J Your only wish, that bliss of life, :> 

I A poor and quiet mind. 

I Clare 

| 11. You like not this phrenology, 

I This system of unfolding 

| The secret of a man's desires 

i To every one's beholding. 

s R. M. Charlton. 



i 12. The sullen passion, and the hasty pet, 
The swelling lip, the tear-distended eye, 
The peevish question, the perverse reply. 

> Hayley — Triumphs of Temper. 

\ 13. Nor do you love that common phrase of guests, 

\ As, we moke hold,, or, we are troublesome ; 

> 

\ We take you unprovided, and the like ; 

nor that common phrase of hosts, 

Oh, had I known your coming, we'd have had 

Such things and such ; nor blame of cook, to say, 

This dish or that hath not been served with care. 

Thomas Heywood and Richard Broome — 

5 The Late Lancashire Witches. 



'% 

I 198 | 

\ 14. Tales of love were wont to weary you ; \ 

I know you joy not in a love-discourse. 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

15. 'Tis a dreary thing to be 
Tossing on the wide, wide sea, 
When the sun has set in clouds, 
And the wind sighs through the shrouds, 
With a voice and with a tone 
Like a living creature's moan I 

Epes Sargent. 

16. To hear the French talk French around you, 

And wonder how they understand each other ; 
To hearken, and find all attempts confound you 
At guessing what they mean by all their pother. 
Byron — Giuseppino. 

17. Books ! out upon them ; faithless chroniclers, 
Mere wordy counsellors — cold comforters 
In the hour of sorrow. 

Lady Flora Hastings 

18. Your curse upon the venom'd slang 
That shoots your tortured gums alang, 
An' through your lugs gies mony a twang, 

Wi' gnawing vengeance ; 
Tearing your nerves wi' bitter pang, 
Like racking engines. 

Burns. 



199 

19. As for stupid reason, 

That stalking, ten-foot rule, 
She's always out of season, 
A tedious, testy fool. 



Mrs. Follen. 



20. Gentleman. — That most active member of mortal ) 

things, \ 

A woman's tongue ; something like a smoke-jack, \ 
For it goes ever, without winding up. 

John Tobin — Honey Moon. \ 

j 

20. Lady. — You would rather hear your dog bark at a \ 

crow, \ 

Than a man swear he loves you. \ 

Much Ado About Nothing. \ 

\ 

21. Age is dark and unlovely; it is like the glimmer- i 

ing light of the moon when it shines through 

broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills : the \ 

blast of the north is on the plain ; the traveller \ 
shrinks in the midst of his journey. 



! 

OSSIAN. 



\ 22. To have odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on \ 

s > 

\ y ou ' { 

\ Much Ado About Nothing. > 

\ 23. Whenever a change is wrought, 

\ And you know not the reason why, \ 

In your own or an old friend's thought. { 

\ Barry Cornwall. \ 

\ i 



200 

24. You are weary of the endless theme of Cupid's 

smiles and sighs, 
You are sick of reading rigmaroles about " my 

lady's eyes;" 
You cannot move, you cannot look around, below, 

above, 

But men and women, birds and bees, are prating 

about love. 
\ R. M. Charlton. 

I 

\ 25. You hate ingratitude more in man, 
i Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 

Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption 

•? Inhabits our frail blood. 

Twelfth Night. 

I 26. There are haughty steps that would walk the globe 
\ O'er necks of humbler ones ; 

You would scorn to bow to their jewell'd robes, 
Or the beam of their coin-lit suns. 
I Miss L. P. Smith. 

I 27. You'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd, 
| Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree, 

And that would set your teeth nothing on edge, 
Nothing so much as mincing poetry. 
s Henry IV. 



| 23. In your soul you loathe 

I All affectation. 'Tis your perfect scorn, 

1 Object of your implacable disgust. 

\ Cowper — Task. 



201 

29. Gentleman. — To pick up fans and knitting-needles, 

And list to songs, and tunes, and watch for smiles, 

And smile at pretty prattle. 

Byron — Werner. 

29. Lady. — An a lover be tardy, you had as lief be 

wooed of a snail ; for though the snail comes 
slowly, he carries his house on his head. 

As You Like It. 

30. That the king should reign on a throne of gold, 
Fenced round by his power divine ; 

That the baron should sit in his castle old, 
Drinking his ripe red wine ; 
While below, below, in his ragged coat, 
The beggar he tuneth a hungry note, 
And the spinner is bound to his weary thread, 
And the debtor lies down with an aching head. 

Barry Cornwall. 

31. Lighted halls, 
Cramm'd full of fools and fiddles. 

R. C. Sands. 



\ 32. To hear 

The roaring of the raging elements, 
To know all human skill, all human strength 
\ Avail not ; to look round, and only see 

\ The mountain wave, incumbent with its weight 

\ Of bursting waters o'er the reeling bark ; — 



202 i 

Oh, God, this is indeed a dreadful thing ! 
And he who hath endured the horror once 

Of such an hour, doth never hear the storm j 

Howl round his home, but he remembers it, 5 

And thinks upon the suffering mariner. < 

Southey — Madoc. < 

33. I perceive you delight not in music. 

Merry Wives of Windsor s 

34. You hate the gold and silver which persuade 
Weak men to follow far-fatiguing trade ; \ 
Who madly think the flowery mountain's side, 

The fountain's murmur, and the valley's pride, \ 

The river's flow, less pleasing to behold I 
Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold. 

Collins — Eclogues. > 

35. To climb life's worn and heavy wheel, 
Which draws up nothing new. 

Young — Night Thoughts. 

36. To tax a had voice to slander music. An he had 

been a dog that should have howled thus, they 
would have hanged him. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 



37. It moves you more perhaps than folly ought, 

When some green heads, as void of wit as thought, 



203 

Suppose themselves monopolists of sense, 

And wiser mens' ability pretence. 

Cowper. 

38. Gentleman. — A woman moved, which like a foun- 
tain troubled 
(Is) muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty, 
And in no wise is meet or reasonable. 

Taming of the Shrew. 

38. Lady. — The heavens preserve me 
From that dull blessing, an obedient husband. 

Tobin — Honey Moon. 

39. You're tired of visits, modes, and forms, 

And flatteries paid to fellow- worms ; 

Their conversation cloys. 

Dr. Watts. 

40. The spider, that weaver of cunning so deep, 
Who rolls himself up in a ball to sleep. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 

41. A fly that tickles the nasal tip. 

Miss H. F. Gould. 

42. Man delights not thee ; no, nor woman neither. 

I Henry IV. 

I 43. Church-yards unadorned with shades 

And blossoms Naked rows of graves 



\ 204 \ 



And melancholy ranks of monuments ; 

where the coarse grass between 



|j Shoots up its dull green spikes, and in the wind 

\ Hisses ; 

where the neglected bramble 

s Grows near the dead. 

v Bryant. 



44. You all punctilios hate, 

Though long familiar with the great. 



Swift. 



< 45. That he who's right, and he who swerveth, 

\ Meet at the goal the same, 

\ Where no one hath what he deserveth, 

Not even an empty name. 
\ Barry Cornwall. 

\ 46. Wooing, wedding, and repenting. 

\ Much Ado About Nothing. 

\ 

> 

I 47. Soft-buzzing slander — silky moth that eats 

An honest name. 
\ Thomson. 

\ 

48. The blood- extracting bill and filmy wing, 
\ The light pump, and freckled feet — 

) Of the musquito. 

\ Bryant 

\ 49. You do not like hut yet ; 

But yet is as a jailer to bring forth 

Some monstrous malefactor. 
i Antony and Cleopatra. 



205 

50. Gentleman. — You'd rather 

Ride a day's hunting on an outworn jade, 
Th an follow in the train of a great man 
In his dull pageantries. 



Byron — Werner. > 

< 



50. Lady. — Never yet did housewife notable 
Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day. 

Mrs. Barbauld. 

51. Thou dread'st to see 
The glowing summer sun, 

And balmy blossoms on the tree 
Unfolding one by one ; 
They speak of things which once have been, 

But never more can be : 
And earth all deck'd in smiles again 

Is still a waste to thee. 

Sarah H. Whitman. 

52. Softest winds are dreary, 
And summer sunlight weary, 
And sweetest things uncheery, 

You know not why. 

J. R. Lowell. 



53. The Guinea-hen, 

Which keeps a piercing and perpetual scream. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 



206 

54. Sleep, infested with the burning sting 
Of bug infernal, who the live-long night 
With direst suction sips thy liquid gore. 

Robert Ferguson. 



55. When you behold a spider 

Prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm, 
Or view a butcher, with horn-handled knife, 
Slaughter a tender lamb as dead as mutton, 
Indeed, indeed you're very, very sick ! 

Horace and James Smith — Rejected Addresses. 



56. Where'er that place the priests ca' hell, 
Whence a' the tones of misery yell, 
And ranked plagues their numbers tell, 

In dreadfu' row, 
Thou, toothache, surely bear'st the bell 
Amang them a' ! 

57. You scorn this hated scene 

Of masking and disguise, 
Where men on men still gleam 

With falseness in their eyes, 
Where all is counterfeit, 

And truth hath never say, 
Where hearts themselves do cheat, 

Concealing hope's decay, 
And, writhing at the stake, 
Themselves do liars make. 



Burns. 



Motherwell. 



207 

58. You call the time misspent that is bestow'd 
On loud-tongued orators, whose art it is 

To launch their hearers upon passion's tide, 
And drive them on by gusts of windy words. 

Cumberland — Calvary. 

59. You do despise a liar as you do despise one that is 

false, or as you despise one that is not true. 
Merry Wives of Windsor. 

60. Songs and unbaked poetry, 
Such as the dabblers of our time contrive, 

That has no weight, nor wheel to move the mind, 
Nor indeed nothing but an empty sound. 

Beaumont and Fletcher — The Elder Brother. 



2*v\^w\^v 



WHERE OR WHAT WILL BE YOUR 
RESIDENCE? 



The world was all before her, where to choose I 

Her place of rest, and Providence her guide. I 

Milton. I 

The mind is its own place, and of itself I 
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. 

Milton. 



WHERE OE WHAT WILL BE YOUR 
RESIDENCE? 




EAR some fair town you'll have a 

private seat, 
Built uniform, not little, nor too great; 
It shall within no other things contain, 
But what are useful, necessary, plain ; 
A little garden grateful to the eye, 
While a cool rivulet runs murmuring by. 
PomfreVs Choice. 

2. Amongst the vines, 

See'st thou not where thy villa stands ? The moon- 
beam 
Strikes on the granite column, and mountains 

Rise sheltering round it. 

Lady Flora Hastings. 



3. Child of the town and hustling street, 
What woes and snares await thy feet ! 



ar 

I 212 

\ Thy paths are paved for many miles, 

\ Thy groves and hills are peaks and tiles. 

\ • Allan Cunningham. 

s 4. A warm but simple home, where thou'lt enjoy 

\ With one, who shares thy pleasures and thy heart, 

\ Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph 

\ Which neatly is prepared. 

:; Cowper. 

s 

\ 

5. Low in the glen, 

> Down which a little stream hath furrow'd deep 

\ *f 'Tween meeting birchen boughs, a shelvy channel, 

I And brawling mingles with the western tide. 

5 Far up the stream, almost beyond the roar 

> Of storm-bulged breakers, foaming o'er the rocks 
W T ith furious dash, your lowly dwelling lurks, 

\ Surrounded by a circlet of the stream. 

\ Before the wattled door, a greensward plat 

? With daises gay, pastures a playful lamb. 

> A pebbly path, deep-worn, leads up the hill, 

\ Winding among the trees, by wheel untouch'd. 

• On every side it is a shelter'd spot, 

I So high and suddenly the woody steeps 

j Arise. One only way, downward the stream, 

ij Just o'er the hollow, 'tween the meeting boughs, 

\ The distant wave is seen, with now and then 

t The glimpse of passing sail ; though when the breeze 

\ Cresteth the distant wave, this little nook 

> Is all so calm, that on the limberest spray 



I 213 



The sweet bird chanteth motionless, the leaves 
ng. 
Grahame — Birds of Scotland. 



At times scarce fluttering. 



6. Neat is your house ; each table, chair, and stool 
Stands in its place, or moving, moves by rule ; 
No lively print or picture grace the room, 
A plain brown paper lends its decent gloom. 



7. A summer lodge amid the wild, — { 

'Tis shadow'd by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the \ 

vine ; \ 

The wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant \ 

thickets nigh, \ 

And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they j 

meet the sky. j 

BsYANT. ? 



8. Beside a public way, i 

Thick strewn with summer dust, and a great stream \ 

Of people hurrying to and fro. \ 

Shelley. s 



9. Crowning a gradual hill, your mansion swells 
In ancient English grandeur ; turrets, spires, 
And windows, climbing high from base to roof, 
In wide and radiant rows, bespeak its birth 
Coeval with those rich cathedral fanes, 
(Gothic ill-famed,) where harmony results 



85™ 




~~ % 


j 


214 


i 

> 


1 


From disunited parts ; and shapes minute, 


\ 




At once distinct and blended, boldly form 






One vast majestic whole. 


> 


\ 


W. Mason — The English Garden. 


\ 


\\o. 


In a proud city and a rich, 
A city fair and old, 


i 


< 
< 


FilPd with the world's most costly things, 

Of precious stones and gold ; 
Of silks, fine wool, and spiceries, ^ 

And all that's bought and sold. 




• 


Mary Howitt 


s 


11. 


I see, I see the rustic porch, 
And close beside the door 
The old elm, waving still as green 


< 




As in the days of yore. 


< 




I see the wreathing smoke ascend 


s 




In azure columns up the sky, 


I 


] 


I see the twittering swallow 


1 


1 


Around in giddy circles fly. 


I 




T. McLellan. 


I 


12. 


A house, whence, as by stealth, you catch 
Among the hills a glimpse of busy life, 


5 


| 


That sooths, not stirs. 


. \ 

5 




Rogers. 


\ 


S 13. 


In stately dwelling built of squared bricke. 




\ 


Spenser. 


\ 



215 \ 



I 14. A city, that great sea whose ebb and flow 

| At once is deaf and loud. 

I In its depth what treasure — you will see. 

? Shelley. 



\ 15. In a fair and stately mansion, with old woods 

\ Girdled around. 

\ Howitt. 

jl 16. A low, sweet home, 

A pastoral dwelling with its ivied porch, i 

j And lattice, gleaming through the leaves. \ 

5 Hemans. c 

i 17. You shall dwell in some bright little isle of your \ 

I own, \ 

In a blue summer ocean far off and alone, \ 

Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming I 

^ bowers, \ 

| And the bee banquets on through a whole year of 

I flowers. 



Moore. 



18. You scarce upon the borders enter, 
Before you're at the very centre. 
Though small your farm, it has a house 
Full large to entertain a mouse ; 
But if it's enter'd by a rat, 
There is no room to bring a cat. 
Round your garden is a walk 



^ 



216 

No longer tnan a tailor's chalk ; 
One salad makes a shift to squeeze 
Up through a tuft you call your trees, 
And, once a year, a single rose 
Peeps from the bud, but never blows. 
In vain then you'll expect its bloom, 
It cannot blow for want of room. 
In short, in all your boasted seat 
There's nothing but yourself that's great. 

Swift. < 



19. Your island lies nine leagues away ; 
Along its solitary shore 



Of craggy rock, and sandy bay, \ 

No sound but ocean's roar, \ 

Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home, \ 

Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. < 

R. H. Dana. 



20. Sweet sights, sweet sounds, all sights all sounds 

excelling ; 
Oh, 'tis a ravishing spot, form'd for a Poet's dwell- 
ing ! 

Drake. 

21. A city 
Where trade and joy in every busy street 
Mingling are heard, and in whose crowded ports 
The rising masts an endless prospect yield. 

Thomson. 



217 

22. A valley, from the river shore withdrawn, 

Shall be your home — two quiet woods between, 
Whose lofty verdure overlooks the lawn ; 
And waters, to their resting-place serene, 
Come freshening and reflecting all the scene. 

s 

\ Campbell. 

\ 23. Please step in 

And visit roun' an' roun' ; 
There's naught superfluous to gie pain 

Or costly to be foun', 
Yet a' is clean. 

Allan Ramsay — Gentle Shepherd. \ 

24. A whitewash'd wall, a nicely sanded floor, \ 
A varnish'd clock that clicks behind the door, j 
A chest contrived a double debt to pay, \ 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; \ 
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, \ 
Ranged on the chimney, glisten in a row. \ 

Goldsmith — Deserted Village. ]■ 

25. How beautiful it stands, \ 

Behind its elm-trees' screen, > 

With simple attic cornice crown'd, \ 
All graceful and serene ! 

Mrs. Sigourney. j 

26. O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, < 
Your thoughts as boundless and your soul as free, \ 



19 



218 

Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 
Survey your empire, and behold your home ! 



Byron. 



{ 27. A pastoral scene of your own land, 

Groves darkly green, neat farms, and pastures gay 

\ With golden flowers ; brooks stealing over sand, 

Or smooth-worn pebbles, murmuring light away ; — 

Blue rye-fields, yielding to the gentle hand 

Of the cool west wind ; scented fields of hay, 

Falling in purple bloom ! 

Percival. 

28. A pleasant aspect shall your parlor wear, — 
Pictures, and busts, and books, and flowers, 
And a light hearth where one may sit for hours, 
And feel the minutes in their rapid flight, 

Yet never think to count them as they go ; 
The mind, in converse sweet, beguiled so. 

Mrs. A. M. Wells. 

29. A light commodious chamber 
Looking out to the hills, and where the shine 
Of the great sun may enter. 

M»ARY HOWITT 

30. It is a chosen plot of fertile land, 
Emongst wide waves sett, like little nest, 
As if it had by nature's cunning hand 
Bene choycely picked out from all the rest, 
And laid forth for ensample of the best. 

Spenser. 



\ 219 



31. A mansion, where domestic love 
And truth breathe simple kindness to the heart ; 
Where white-arm'd childhood twines the neck of 

age; 
Where hospitable cares light up the hearth, 
Cheering the lonely traveller on his way. 

Mrs Gilman. 

32. Thine be a cot beside the hill: 

A beehive's hum shall sooth thine ear ; 

A willowy brook that turns the mill 

With many a fall, shall linger near. 

Rogers. 

33. The dense city's roofs 

Throng around thee, and the vertic' sun 

Pours from those glowing tiles a fervid heat 

Upon your shrinking nerves. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 

34. A lodge of ample size, 

But strange of structure and device ; 

Of such materials, as around 

The workman's hand has readiest found. 

Scott. 

35. Among the jumbled heap of murky buildings. I 

Keats. 

36. You will be blest as now you are with friends, and 

home, and all 



220 \ 

That in the exulting joy of love your own you \ 

fondly call ; j 

Beloved and loving faces, that you've known so \ 

long and well, j 

The dear familiar places where your childish foot- 
steps fell, 

Where you join'd with careless heart and free \ 
your playmates' blooming band, 

As happy still as now in this, — you'll tread your \ 

native land. \ 

Mrs. Osgood. 

\ \ 

\ 37. On the well-sloped banks arise trim clumps, 

Some round and some oblong, of shrubs exotic ; 
While, at respectful distance, rises up 
The red brick wall, with flues and chimney-tops | 
And many a leafy crucifix adorn'd. 
The smooth expanse, 
Well cropp'd, and daily, as the owner's chin, 
Not one irregularity presents, 
Not even one grassy tuft in which a bird 
May find a home and cheer the dull domain. 

Grahame — Birds of Scotland. 

38. The city's gloom, that falls 

Where the same window fronts the same dull walls ; \ 
To see new, weary idlers tread once more 
The mud or dust, which crowds have trod before, j 
Or the gay chariot loiter to await 
Some fool you scorn, or envious flirt you hate. 
Dr. Brown — Bower of Spring. 



221 

39. A lone dwelling, built by whom, or how, 
None of the rustic island people know. 
The isle and house are thine. — 

Nature, with all her children, haunts the hill ; 
The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight, 
Before thy gate. — Be this thy home in life. 

Shelley. 

40. In a city vast and populous, 

Whose thronging multitude 
Sends forth a sound afar off heard, 

Strong as the ocean flood ; 
A strong, deep sound of many sounds, 

Toil, pleasure, pain, delight, 
And traffic, myriad-wheel'd, whose din 

Ceases not day and night. 

Mary Howitt. 

41. A simple home, 

A plain well-order'd household, without show 
Of wealth or fashion. 

Peroval. 

i 

l 42. All day within your dreary house 

The doors upon their hinge will creak, 
^ The blue-fly sing in the pane, the mouse 

Behind the mouldering wainscot creep, 

Or from the crevice peer about. 
< Tennyson. 



19 H 



222 

43. Upon a green bank side. 
Skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river, 

Whose waters seem unwillingly to glide, 

Like parting friends, who linger ere they sever. 

Drake. 

44. Where streets are stifling, bustling, noisy, dry ; 
Hot are the pavements as an oven floor ; 
Dingy-red brick grows tiresome to the eye. 

Mary Howitt. 

45. Refinement's chosen seat, 

Art's trophied dwelling, learning's green retreat. 

Sprague. 

46. I know the spot ; 

The curtain'd windows half exclude the light, 

Yet eager still to make their way, 
A thousand elfin sunbeams bright, 

Glittering about the carpet play. 
But what attracts you chiefly there 
Is one who in a cushion'd rocking-chair 
Doth sit and read. 

Mrs. A. M. Wells. 

47. The wild wind sweeps across your low damp floors, 

And makes a weary noise and wailing moan; 
All night you hear the clap of broken doors, 
That on their rusty hinges grate and groan • 

fl*\AAAAAA/ 



223 

And then old voices, calling from behind 

The worn and wormy wainscot, flapping in the 

wind. 

Thomas Miller. 

48. In simple western style, 
With all your chambers on the lower floor ; 
In fact, of stories you will boast no more 
Than simply one. 'Tis at the river's side, 
And near it grows a noble sycamore ; 

A velvet lawn of green, outspreading wide, 

Slopes smoothly down, to meet the ever-rippling 

tide. 

Mrs. Dana. 

49. It is a home to die for, as it stands 

Through its vine foliage, sending forth a sound 
Of mirthful childhood o'er the green repose 
And laughing sunshine of the pastures round. 

Hemans. 

50. Gay apartments, 
Where mimic life beneath the storied roof 
Glows to the eye, and at the painter's touch 
A new creation glows along the walls. 

Arthur Murphy — Orphan of China. 

51. Down by the hamlet's hawthorn-scented way, 
Where round the cot's romantic glade are seen 
The blossom'd bean-field, and the sloping green. 

Campbell. 



224 

52. A lonesome lodge, 
That stands so lowe in lonely glen. 
The little windowe dim and darke 

Is hung with ivy, brier, and yewe ; 
No shimmering sun here ever shone, 

No halesome breeze here ever blewe. 
No chair, no table may you spye, 

No cheareful hearth, no welcome bed, 
Naught save a rope with running noose, 

That dangling hangs up o'er your heade. 
\ Percy's Rel.iq.ues — Heir of Linne. 

53. The mountains, the mountains ! amidst them is your 

home ; 
To their pure and sparkling fountains impatiently 

you come ; 
Their bleak and towering summits invade the dark 

blue sky, 
But o'er their rudest ridges your fancy loves to fly. 

Dr. S. H. Dickson. 

54. A lowly roof; 

Thou know'st it well, and yet 'twill seem more low 

Than it was wont to seem, for thou wilt be 

A visitant of loftier domes and halls, 

Meet for the feet of princes. 

Mrs. Sigourney. 



55. Your house a cottage more 

Than palace, and will fitting be 



225 

For all your use, not luxury. \ 

Your garden painted o'er I 

With Nature's hand, not Art's, will pleasures yield j 

Horace might envy in his Sabine field. \ 

Cowley. > 

56. You'll think yourself superbly off, though rather 

cramp'd in bed, < 

If your garret keep the winter rain from dropping \ 

on your head. \ 

Albert Pike. \ 

57. A snug thack house ; before the door a green, 
Hens on the midding, ducks in pools are seen. 5 
On this side stands a barn, on that a byre, \ 
A peat-stack joins, an' forms a rural square. I 
The house is yours, — there shall we see you lean \ 
And to your turfy seat invite a frien'. 

Allan Ramsay — Gentle Shepherd. 

58. It is a quiet picture of delight, 
Your humble cottage, hiding from the sun 
In the thick woods. We see it not till then, 
When at its porch. Rudely but neatly wrought, 
Four columns make its entrance ; slender shafts, 
The rough bark yet upon them, as they came 
From the old forest 

Prolific vines 



Have wreath'd them well, and half obscured the 
rinds 



226 

| Unpromising that wrap them. Crowding leaves 

' Of glistening green, and clustering bright flowers 

Of purple, in whose cups throughout the day 
The humming-bird wantons boldly, wave around 

> And woo the gentle eye and delicate touch. 

This is the dwelling, and 'twill be to thee 

\ Quiet's especial temple. 

W. G. SIMMS. 

\ 

* 59. That dear old home ! 

Something of old ancestral pride it keeps, 
Though fallen from its early power and vastness ! 



The sunlight seems to thy eyes brighter there 

Than wheresoever else. 

Fanny Kemble. 



\ 60. In a vale with dwellings strown, 

One is standing all alone ; 
l White it rises mid the leaves, 

Woodbines clamber o'er its eaves, 
I And the honeysuckle falls 

Pendant on its silent walls. 

'Tis a cottage small and fair 
\ As a cloud in summer air. 



Park Benjamin. 



WHAT IS YOUR DESTINY? 



You unconcern'd 
And calm, can meet your coming destiny, 
In all its charming, or its frightful shapes. 

Dr. Watts. 

I have an ear that craves for every thing, 
That hath the smallest sign or omen in it. 

Joanna Baillie. 

Let me deem that 

Some unknown influence, some sweet oracle, 

Communicates between us though unseen, 

In absence, and attracts us to each other. 

Byron. 



i 



WHAT IS YOUR DESTINY? 




2. 



E'LL draw a bonny silken purse ; 
Ye'll ca' your coach, ye'll ca' your 
horse. 

Burns. 



Of the present much is bright, 

And in the coming years I see 
A brilliant and a cheering light, 

Which burns before thee constantly. 

W. D. Gallagher. 



3. A better cellar nowhere can be found ; 
The pantry never is without baked meat, 
And fish and flesh, so plenteous and complete : 
It snows within your house of meat and drink, 
Of all the dainties that a man can think. 

Chaucer. 



S£ 



Gentleman. — Thine never was a woman's dower 
Of tenderness and love ! 



:«g 



230 

Thou who canst chain the eagle's power, 
Canst never tame the dove. 

E. C. Embury. 

4. Lady. — Let me gaze for a moment, that ere I die 
I may read thee, lady, a prophecy. 

That brow may beam in glory awhile, 
That cheek may bloom, and that lip may smile, 
But clouds shall darken that brow of snow, 
And sorrow blight thy bosom's glow. 

Miss L. Davidson. 

5. The best establishment in the city, 

Coaches and horses, hounds and liveried servants. 

Mary Howitt. 

6. Thou seest only what is fair, 

Thou sippest only what is sweet ; 
Thou wilt mock at fate and care, 
Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. 

> R. W. Emerson. 

> 7. Ye build, ye build, but ye enter not in ! 

< Mrs. Sigourney. 

\ 

\ 8. I'll warrant thee from drowning, though thy 
* Ship were no stronger than a nut-shell 



Tempest. 



9. The sea of ambition is tempest-toss'd, 

And thy hopes may vanish like foam ; 



231 

But when sails are shiver'd and rudder lost, 
Then look to the light of home ! 

Mrs. Hale. 

10. Your life's a summer even, 

Whose sun of light, though set 
Amidst the clouds of heaven, 

Leaves streams of brightness yet. 

BOWRING. 

11. In a narrow sphere, 
The little circle of domestic love, 

You will be known and loved ; the world beyond 
Is not for you. 

SOUTHEY. 

12. Thou dwell'st on sorrow's high and barren place, 
But round about the mount an angel-guard — 
Chariots of fire, horses of fire — encamp, 

To keep thee safe for heaven ! 

Mrs. Ellet. 

13. To cheer with sweet repast the fainting guest, 
To lull the weary on the couch of rest, 

To warm the traveller, numb'd with winter cold, 

The young to cherish, to support the old, 

The sad to shelter, and the lost direct — 

These are your cares, and this your glorious task ; 

Can heaven a nobler give, or mortals ask 1 

Sir William Jones. 



%. 



232 

14. The sordid cares in which you dwell 

Shrink and consume your heart. 

Bryant. 

15. A wide future is before you ; 

Your heart will beat for fame, 
And you will learn to breathe with love 

The music of a name, 
Writ on the tablets of that heart 

In characters of flame. 

J. O. Sargent. 

16. To grow in the world's approving eyes, 

In friendship's smile, and home's caress, 
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 
Into one knot of happiness. 

Moore. 

17. Sorely harass'd, and tired at last with fortune's 

vain delusions, O, 
You'll drop your schemes like idle dreams, and 

come to this conclusion, O, — 
The past was bad, the future hid, the good and ill 

untried, O, 
But the present hour is in your power, and so you 

will enjoy it, O. 

Burns. 

18. You will be blest exceedingly ; your store 
Grow daily, weekly, more and more, 



233 

And peace so multiply around, 
Your very hearth seem holy ground. 

Mary Howitt 

19. With steady aim your fortune chase, 
Keen hope let every sinew brace, 

Through fair, through foul, urge on your race, 

And seize the prey ; 

Then cannie, in some cozie place, 

Thou'lt close life's day. 

Burns. 

20. In your dreams a form you'll view, 
That thinks on you and loves you too ; 
You start, and when the vision's flown 
You'll weep that you are all alone. 

H. K. White. 

21. Quiet by day, 

Sound sleep by night, study and ease 

Together mix'd, sweet recreation, 

And innocence which most doth please, 

With meditation. 

Pope. 

22. Gentleman. — A gentle lover shalt thou be, 

Sitting at thy loved one's side ; 
She giving her whole soul to thee, 

Without a thought or wish of pride, 
And she shall be thy cherish'd bride. 

J. R. Lowell. 



234 

22. Lady. — Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, 
Thou shalt not escape calumny. 

Shakspeare. 

23. Every day 

A little life, a blank to be inscribed 

With gentle deeds, such as in after time 

Console, rejoice, whene'er you turn the leaf 

To read them. 

Rogers. 

24. Through many a clime 'tis yours to go, 

With many a retrospection cursed ; 
And all your solace is to know, 

Whate'er betide, you've known the worst. 

BVRON. 

25. Rouse to some high and holy work of love, 
And thou an angel's happiness shalt know, 

Shalt bless the earth while in the world above ; 
The good begun by thee shall onward flow, 
In many a branching stream, and wider flow. 

Carlos Wilcox. 

26. You shall go down as men have ever done, 
And tread the pathway worn by common tramp. 

A. C. Coxe. ) 

27. Friendship shall still thy evening feasts adorn, 
And blooming peace shall ever bless thy mor« 



235 

Succeeding years their happy race still run, 
And age unheeded by delight come on. 

Prior. 

28. Gentleman. — She's fair and fause that caused your 

smart, 

You will lo'e her mickle and lang ; 

She will break her vow, she will break your heart, 

And ye may e'en go hang. 

Burns. 

28. Lady. — Gay hope is yours by fancy led, 

Less pleasing when possess'd, 

The tear forgot as soon as shed, 

The sunshine of the breast. 

Gray. 



29. Single as a stray glove. 

Fanny Kemble. 



30. Gentleman. — You will not waste your spring of 
youth 
In idle dalliance. You will plant rich seeds 
To blossom in your manhood, and bear fruit 
When you are old. 

HlLLHOUSE. 



30. Lady. — To shrine within your heart's core one 

\ dear image, 

ij To think of it all day, to dream all night. 

I Mary Howitt. 

i 



236 

31. The duties of a wedded life 
Hath heaven ordain'd for thee. 



Southey. 



32. To love, 
Love fondly, truly, fervently, and pine 

When you have told your love, and sue in vain. 

Wordsworth. 

33. Hope, and health, and " learned leisure," 
Friends, books, thy thoughts. 

Barry Cornwall. 

34. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing ; 
Each morn will see some task begun, 

Each evening see it close ; 

Something attempted, something done, 

Will earn a night's repose. 

Longfellow. 

35. You will go east, you will go west, 

To seek for what you will not find, — 

A heart at peace with its own thoughts, 

A quiet and contented mind. 

You will seek high, you will seek low, 

But your search will be in vain. 

Landon. 



36. A course of days composing happy months, 
And they as happy years; the present still 
So like the past, and both so firm a pledge 



237 

Or a congenial future, that the wheels 
Of pleasure move without the aid of hope* 

Wordsworth. 

37. You will tread the path of fame, 
And barter peace to win a name. 

S. G. Goodrich. 

38. Each hour, each minute of your life 
Shall be a golden holiday ; and if a cloud 
O'ercast thee, 'twill be light as gossamer. 

G. Coleman. 

39. A little, and content; 
The faithful friend, and cheerful night, 
The social scene of dear delight, 

The conscience pure, the temper gay, 
The musing eve and busy day. 

Thomas Warton. 

40. Live where your father lived, die where he dies; 
Live happy, die happy. 



41. You'll use up life in anxious cares, 
To lay up hoards for future years. 



Pollok. 



Gay. 



42. You think of all the bubbles men are chasing; I 

They dream them worlds, because they're bright 
and fair : 



*. 



j5 

| 238 

| You sit down with your book, your fireside facing, 

And laugh to think of the wealth to which you 
are heir. 

C RANCH. 

43. Impell'd with steps unceasing to pursue 

Some fleeting good that mocks thee with the view. 

Goldsmith. 

44. You'll have a clear and competent estate, 
That you may live genteelly, but not great ; 
As much as you can moderately spend, 

A little more, sometimes, to oblige a friend. 

Pomfrefs Choice. 

45. Rich, hated; wise, suspected ; scorn 'd if poor ; 

Great, feared ; fair, tempted ; high, still envied 

more. 

Sir H. Wotton. 

46. Gentleman. — You lore 

A blooming lady, a conspicuous flower, 
Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised, 
Whom you have sensibility to love, 
Ambition to attempt, and skill to win. 

Wordsworth. 

46. Lady. — I fain would give to thee the loveliest 
things, 
For lovely things belong to thee of right. 

J. R. Lowell. 



239 

47. Oh, you will still enjoy the cheerful day, 

Till many years unheeded by have roll'd; 
Pleased in your age to trifle life away. 

And tell how much you loved ere you grew old. 
Hammond — Love Elegies. 



48. Endless labor all along, 

Endless labor to do wrong. 

Dr. Johnson. 



49. A fearful sign stands in thy house of life, 

An enemy ; a fiend lurks close behind 

The radiance of thy planet: — Oh, be warn'd ! 
\ Coleridge. 

\ 50. Thy God, in the darkest of days, will be 

Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee. 

Barton. 

51. You were not meant to struggle from your birth 



ggic iiwm j^ui uinu, 

\ 

\ 



To skulk and creep, and in mean pathways range ; 

Act with stern truth, large faith, and loving will, 

Up and be doing. 

J. R. Lowell. 

52. Gentleman. — To die 'midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 
And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightning from the mountain cloud. 

Halleck. 



M 



r Jfi 

240 ! 



| 52. 


Lady. — Death shall come 




Gently, to one of delicate mould like thee, 




As light winds wandering through groves of bloom 


\ 


Detach the delicate blossom from the tree. 




Bryant. 


\ 53. 


I know that pleasure's hand will throw 


j 


Her silken nets about thee, 


| 


I know how lonesome friends will find 


i 


The long, long days without thee ; 


| 


But in thy letters there'll be joy, 


| 


The reading, the replying ; 


I 


They'll kiss each word that's traced by thee, 




Upon thy truth relying. 

Bayley. 


54. 


Your life shall be as it has been, 




A sweet variety of joys. 

R. II. Wilde. 


55. 


Neither poverty 




Nor riches, 




But godliness so gainful 




With content. 


j 


No painted pomp nor glory that 


\ 


Bewitches ; 


\ 


A blameless life is your best monument, 


\ 


And such a life that soars a — 




Bove the sky, 




Well pleased to live, but better pleased to die. 




Hugh Peters. 


% 





241 



56. A life you'll lead 

Which hath no present 1 
Entirely of to-morrows. 



I Which hath no present time, but is made up 



Joanna Baillie. 

57. Gentleman. — I see Lord Mayor written on your 

forehead. 

Massing er. 

57. Lady. — A marriage in May weather. 

< Leigh Hunt — Rimini. 

\ 

\ 58. You'll have never a penny left in your purse, 

I Never a penny but three ; 

And one is brass, and another is lead, 
And another is white money. 

Percy's Reliques — Heir of Linne. 

\ 59. You will double your life's fading space, 

For he that runs it well, runs twice his race ; 

And in this true delight, 
These unbought sports, this happy state, 
You will not fear, nor wish your fate ; 
\ But boldly say each night, 

\ " To-morrow let my sun his beams display, 

\ " Or in clouds hide them ; I have lived to-day." 

\ Cowley. 

\ 60. Yet haply there will come a weary day, \ 

< When, over-task'd at length, \ 



242 • | 

Both Love and Hope beneath the weight give way. \ 

Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, I 

Stands the mute sister Patience, nothing loth, j 
And both supporting, does the work of both. 

Coleridge. 



k. 




NEW AND V A L U A B L E * 

BOOKS, | 

PUBLISHED BY • < 

I 

WILEY AND PUTNAM, | 

161 Broadway, N. V. 



GERMAN ROMANCE. 



I Undine and other Tales ; by the Baron de la Motte Fouque. \ 

| Translated by the Rev. Thos. Tracy. A new edition, " 

j thoroughly revised and corrected. 1 neat volume, very \ 

handsomely printed on fine paper. 37|c. < 

I " A beautifully romantic tale of the highest excellence." — Conversations \ 
} Lexicon. s 

I " A delightful tale, full of depth of thought and true poetic feeling."— Sir J , 
/ Mackintosh. , 

j "This exquisite tale is quite a literary pet in Germany." — Thomas Carlyle. \ 

* " Fouque's romances I always recommend, especially the wild, graceful, and ) 
touching Undine." — Sarah Austin. \ 

> \ 

I " The style and execution of this delightful romance are very graceful." — < 
t Hawkins* Germany. { 

< "Undine is indeed a very charming tale: it displays delicacy blended with , 
) great power a heart-born truthfulness, and a divine spirit. Beauiy and poetry ; 
t disclose themselves in every page; it has, in fact, become a standard work in 
i the department of the classical romance, and will never fall into oblivion."— 
_ Thimm's Liter, of Germany. 



> THE AMERICAN HOUSE CARPENTER. ) 

: , A Treatise upon Architecture, Cornices, and Mouldings ; 5 

J Framing, Doors, Window^s, and Stairs ; together with the \ 

j most important Principles of Practical Geometry. By R. j 

\ G. Hatfield, Architect. Illustrated by more than 300 en- > 

\ gravings. 1 vol. 8vo. $2 00. 

1 I 

\ "We make no pretensions even to the most superficial acquaintance with { 
\ the subject of which this book treats. It has never come within our vocatiou ■ 
S to be hewers of wood, any more than drawers of water. And yet, with all our j 
] ignorance, we can see that this must be a book of great vaiue to all scientific s 
' and practical mechanics. And, fortunately, we are not obliged to trust our 5 
I own judgment in the case ; for we are assured, on testimony that is worthy of j 
\ all acceptation, that it is really a work of tne highest merit, and adapted to \ 
I accomplish most important practical improvements in the department of which \ 
I it treats. It is evidently a book to be studied rather than read cursorily, in \ 
I order to secure the benefit which it is designed to impart." — Bait. Amer. 

\ "We should like to call the attention of carpenters to this work, because we < 
I know that every one who may be induced to purchase a copy upon our rec- s 
s ooimendation, will thank us for it. If we take into consideration the great 
5 advantage that a book of this kind is likely to be to a workman, in advancing \ 
i him to proficiency in his trade, the price ($2) must be acknowledged to be but < 
5 trifling." — Daily Amer. Citizen. •> 

1 « \v e ii ve a t a period when there is no art or science that can complain of < 
I being neglected by the makers of books ; and here we have one that is de- < 
\ signed to enlarge the views, and improve the taste, and lighten the labor of the i 
s makers of houses. We can see, from turning over the leaves, that it is a \ 
s thoroughly scientific production ; and more than that, we are assured by one < 
s who knows about these things, and whose judgment may be taken without <! 
< any abatement, that it is a work of no common ability, and ought to be owned 5 
\ and studied by every carpenter in the land. Books of this kind hitherto are $ 
5 understood to have been too expensive to gain a very wide circulation : but ' 
this, though very neatly executed, is sold at a moderate price, and can be \ 
bought by everybody who has an interest in reading it." — Albany Atlas 

"The clearest and most thoroughly practical work on the subject. It is very < 
neatly 'got up,' and the price is extremely moderate." — JV. Y. True Sun. I 

" We have been singularly struck with the clear, easy, we had almost said $ 
the elegant style in which it is written — affording a free demonstration, that < 
he who thoroughly understands his subject, writes well, though authorship is j 
not his trade. It is indeed a good practical work, and therefore of great value.'" 3 
— JVew World. I 

f* " This is a really valuable work, and its astonishingly cheap price brings it ; 
I in the reach of all. We heartily commend it."— Democratic Review. \ 






" This work is a most excellent one ; very comprehensive, and lucidly ar 
i ranged." — JV. American. 

) " Every house carpenter ought to possess one of these books ; it is indisputa- 
j bly the best compendium of information on this subject that has hitherto been ; 
I published." — Journal of Commerce. 

J "This work commends itself by its practical excellence. It needs no other j 
i recommendation." — U. S. Gazette. \ 

\ " Few works of a practical kind from an American pen, will be found of a ) 
j more intrinsic value than this admirable volume; and we feel more confidence \ 
i in this opinion, from the fact of the press universally concurring in our ver > 
I diet."— JV. Y. Morning Neics. > 



\ \ 

JOHNSTON'S AGRICULTURE. 

> \ 

\ Lectures on the Application of Chemistry and Geology to ' 

\ Agriculture. By J. F. VV. Johnston. Complete in one \ 
\ thick vol. $1 25; or in 2 vols. $1 50. j 

; Contents : — < 

\ Part 1. — On the Organic Constituents of Plants. \ 

; " 2. — On the Inorganic Constituents of Plant*. 

" 3. — On the Improvement of the Soil by Mechanical \ 

and Chemical means. < 

" 4. — On the Products of the Soil and their «se in the $ 

Feeding of Animals. s 

Appendix. — Of Suggestions and Results of Experiments in > 

Practical Agriculture. £ 

"It is unquestionably the most important contribution to agricultural science, <| 
and destined to exert a most beneficial influence in this country." — Professor < 
Silliman. \ 

" A work of great value to the agriculturist who would avail himself of the s 
aid of science in the cultivation of hid land."— Am. Agriculturist. '< 

"This truly valuable work forms the only complete treatise on the whole f ' 
subject to be found in any language." — Blackwood" 1 s Magazine. 

"The most complete account of Agricultural Chemistry we possess." — Royal 
Agricultural Journal. 

" We only wish it were in the hands of every farmer's son in the country." — 
Durham Advertiser. 

"Nothing hitherto published has at all equalled it, both as regards true&cienee 
and sound common sense." — Quar. Journal of Agriculture. 

" A valuable and interesting Course of Lectures."— London Quar. Review. 



WATER CURE, FOR LADIES. 

A popular work on the Health, Diet, and Regimen of FSPc 

males and Children, and prevention and cure of diseases ; i 

\ with a full account of the process of Water Cure, illustrated j 

| with various cases, by Mrs. M. L. Shew, revised by Joel \ 

\ Shew, M. D. 1 vol. Price 50 cents. \ 

i { 

\ " A valuable and instructive work on that most interesting branch of modem 5 
< medical science, the medical virtues of water." — JV*. Y. Express. $ 

] "The authoress has reduced the system to practice, and found it every way '■ 
i equal in its curative influences to the representations of its many advocates."- } 
\ True Sun. ", 

9t -.- . , . * 



I THE MEMENTO! A GIFT OF FRIENDSHIP, j 

I The Memento : a Gift of Friendship. Edited by C. W. ' 
I Everest. This interesting volume consists of original Tales ■ 
I and Sketches, in prose and verse, by forty-six eminent • 
s contributors. 1 vol. 12mo., with engravings. $1 50. I 

I " This book, had it been published a few months earlier, would have passed < 
<, for one of the more attractive annuals of the season; but it possesses such in- \ 
\ herent attractions, that it need not borrow favor from any season, in order to \ 
) meet with a high appreciation from intelligent readers. It is made up of con- <, 
\ tritmtions both in prose and poetry, from many of the most gifted pens in the \ 
I land ; and while the articles are not generally of a strictly religious character, \ 
c they are nevertheless of a moral and useful tendency. The work is withal < 
i handsomely got up." — Albany Argus. < 

\ u This is a beautiful gift-book. It is rather late in its appearance, but better < 

> late than never ; for it is a work which, having once had, we would unwil [ 
\ lingly give up. Four good pictures adorn the volume, and the literary matter 

> of the volume is very good. We have seldom seen a prettier gift-book." — 
? Saturday Emporium. 

> " Tim is a very neatly printed volume, filled with excellent literary contri- 
\ butlons from well-known writers, and commended to tasteful readers by the 

> reputation of its editor. It is admirably fitted to be a gift-book for all seasons, 

> and cannot fail to be popular." — Religious Spectator. 

c " The usual taste exhibited by this gentleman in various literary compila- < 
I tions, characterizes in an eminent degree this beautiful volume. In material t 
\ and typography its pages are as pleasing to the eye, as the effusions with < 

> which they are graced are agreeable to the reader. Two exquisite engravings i 

< adorn the opening of the work, one a vignette of a female figure, from a draw- < 
? ing by J. B. Flagg — the other a portrait of Master Howard, from a figure by < 
I Chapman — and several others are interspersed in the body of the book, which I 
\ is handsomely bound in cloth and gilt. We predict that this will be a taking ] 
\ work, and from the array of contributions which enrich its leaves, we believe \ 
\ justly merits a rapid sale." — JSTew Haven Courier. c 

I " The sight of a book which is published under the auspices of Mr. Everest, i 

< is always welcome; for he is known to a large circle of readers, as an old <j 
I and valued friend in these matters. The present volume comes at a late day 

', for an annual — as New Years' and the Christmas holidays, and St. Valen- 
i tine's, and the other seasons when we remember each other in a friendly in- 

< terchange of mementoes, have passed. Still, as the editor says, the present; 
\ collection is not designed merely as an annual, or holiday gift. 

\ '' It contains a variety of articles, both prose and poetry, selected from a very 
\ large number of eminent contributors, some of whom are ranked among the 
, ornaments of our literature. As choice selections, these contributions will be 

Ji«herished, and the offering which Mr. Everest here makes to his friends, must 

*flp warmly appreciated." — Hartford Courant. 

\ "The 'Memento' is intended for a gift-book. It is exceedingly neat and 
I tasteful in its outward appearance, and we can find no fault with it, except 
\ for beir,£ a little behind its time. It ought to have been published at Christ- ; 
\ mas, when all the world and his wife were out -hopping, after jutst such books, i 
\ Yet, after all, though it came to us like a swallow out of season, we learn fr jm < 
i the editor's prefatory note, that this is not so much its fault as its misforUne ; < 
S and surely we cannot blame it for its misfortunes. It is made up of selections s 
^ from some of our most popular writers." — Providence Journal. 

\ " This is a very chrysantheum among the annuals, and shoiild be received \ 
I accordingly — the more welcome for flowing out of season. The Memento is a £ 
\ very neat, unpretending volume, and contains much agreeable reading." — .V. i 

1Y. Mirror. \ 

" We advise all our friends to place it in their libraries, where its great mer- \ 
its will entitle it to a place." — Christian Freeman. 



'* 



\ NEW WORK ON THE EAST. 

i Eothen ; or, Traces of Travel brought Home from the East. •• 
$ 1 neat volume, very handsomely printed on fine paper. < 
I 50 cents. \ 

< Contents. — Preface — Over the border — Journey from Belgrade ■ 
i to Constantinople — Constantinople — The Troad — Infidel Smyrna s 
j — Greek mariners — Cyprus — Lady Hester Stanhope — The Sane- < 
; tuary — The monks of the Holy Land — From Nazareth to Tiberias 5 
I — My first bivouac — The Dead Sea — The black tents — Passage i 
; of the Jordan — Terra Saneta — The desert — Cairo and the plague i 
\ — The Pyramids — The Sphynx — Cairo to Suez — Suez — Suez to \ 
| Caza — Gaza to Nablous — Mariam — The prophet Damoor — Da- < 
* mascus — Pass of the Lebanon — Surprise of Satalieh. 

5 " Graphic in delineation, animated in style, frank in manner, and artistical in 
j the choice and treatment of the subjects selected for presentation." — Spectator. 

<, "He has wit and humor that shed an illustrative gleam on every object 
i which he describes, placing it in the happiest relief." — Athenmum, (first notice.) 

< " The book is as ' light as light,' and as lively as life, yet are there in it pas- 

< sages and scenes which would make most men grave and solemn." — Athenmum, 

< (second notice.) 

< " This book with a bad title is wonderfully clever."— Examiner. 

I " We have seldom, in a word, perused a volume which so irresistibly claims \ 
i the attention, from the first page of the preface to the finale of the wander- \ 
k ings." — Atlas. < 

< " If these be not poetry, and of a pure and striking kind too, we are no \ 
i, critics." — Literary Gazette. I 

I " It is novel in all its details." — Britannia. \ 

< " His account is brief, but were volumes written it could not bring the actual £ 
"l scene more to our mind's eye. We are frequently startled in the midst of mirth £ 

< by some great touch of nature— some terrible display of truth." — Mews of the < 
\ World. 

? "The scenes through which he passed are exhibited with a clearness, and < 
I stamped upon the mind with a strength, which is absolutely fascinating. The i 
i whole is accompanied with the strong commanding evidence of truth, and em- < 

< bellished with all the beauty of poetry."— Globe. < 

l " This is the sort of writing for a traveller— sketchy, vigorous, and original." C 
j — Morning Post. < 

\ "A book which exerts a very fascinating effect on its readers."— Morn ing \ 
i Chronicle. $ 

\ " We have rarely met with a work of the kind, blending so successively ^ 
\ curious and instructive information with light and amusing reading." — West- j 
I minster Review. \ 

\ "Nothing so sparkling, so graphic, so truthful in sentiment, so poetic in j 
■, Tein, has issued from the press for many a day." — The Critic. 

> "This is a real book — not a sham. It displays a varied and comprehensive ; 
i power of mind, and a genuine mastery over the first and strongest of modern ; 
j languages. The author has caught the character and humor of the eastern 

; mind as completely as Anastasius, while in his gorgeous descriptions and ; 
| power of sarcasm he rivals Vathek. His terseness, vigor, and bold imagery ; 

> remind us of the brave old style of Fuller and of South to which he adds a ; 
\ spirit, freshness, and delicacy all his own." — Quarterly .Review. 



< NOTES ON NORTHERN AFRICA. 

5 Notes on Northern Africa, the Sahara and Soudan, in rela- 

^ tion to the Ethnography, Languages, History, Political 

I and Social Condition of the nations of those countries, 

i with various vocabularies. By William B. Hodgson. 1 

I vol. 8vo., well printed. Price 75 cents. 

< Contents. — Barbary, Kabyles, Tuarycks, Mozabees, Wurge- l 
\ lans, Wadreagans, Sergoos, ISiwahees, Schelouh, Guanches, Nu- \ 
\ midian Inscription in America, Foolahs or Fellatahs, Tibbos, \ 

\ Bornouees, Haoussans, Timbuctoo. J 

X s 

\ *** Tlie information contained in these interesting pages, is the result of the \ 

-. author's personal intercourse with the natives of Africa. During his official < 

( residence at Algiers, he had opportunities of conversing with persons, from the ; 

X various countries which he has described. What he lists related, was repeatedly $ 

c confirmed by successive inquiries. The facts recorded may, therefore, be deemed \ 

I as near an approximation to truth, as the circumstances of the case would allow. 'S 

l Then; was no other mode, at least, of obtaining information so important to I 

i science; as no European has yet visited that region of Africa, which lies im- 

1 mediately south of Algiers. With the hope that these notes may afford some $ 

^ additional light upon the obscure history of Africa, and that interesting portion £ 

s of the human race they are now published. < 



NORDHEIMER'S HEBREW GRAMMAR. 

A Critical Grammar of the Hebrew Language, by Isaac I 

Nordheimer, Ph. D., late Professor of Arabic and other s 

Oriental Languages in the University of New York. 3 I 

vols. 8vo., including Chrestomathy. $5 00. ] 

$ "His first volume was most favorably noticed by several periodicals, both at < 

\ home and abroad. The second has even a higher claim to commendation, not <; 

? only for the great beauty and neatness of its execution, but still more for the \ 

\ perspicuity of its style, and the intrinsic excellence of its matter." — Biblical ' 

<■ Rcpositunj. '< 

' "To clergymen and others, who would be glad to recover and increase their ' 
{ knowledge of the Hebrew, an attentive study of this work would afford an ;' 
,' invaluable aid, and we may add, delightful entertainment." — Princeton Review. { 

I "The delightful ease with which we pass over its pages, the interesting man- \ 

5 ner in which the author has laid open to us the processes of our own minds, the j 

I many apposite and beautiful examples adduced by way ot illustration, the ab- > 

5 sence of all pedantry, its freedom from far-fetched theorizing and illogical reason- > 

\ ing, produce such an impression of ease, truth, and clearness, that we almost claim i 

i the tnougnts and conclusions as our own, so spontaneously do our minds meet ^ 

j> those views which are everywhere presented." — Repert. of BibL Lit. > 

> "We are free to say that, as a whole, the exhibition of the Hebrew Language > 

> in its peculiar idioms, the arrangement of those idioms on a systematic plan, / 

> and the solution of them by a reference to universal principles, nave been ac \ 
\ complished in a manner eminently able and successful." — Eclectic Review. { 



FOUQUE'S GERMAN TALES. j 

Undine, a Tale, and Sintram and his Companions, a Tale. \ 
From the German of La Motte Fouque. 1 neat volume, } 
very handsomely printed on fine paper. Price 50 cents. \ 

" A beautifully romantic tale of the highest excellence." — Conversation$ J 
Lexicon. 

" A delightful tale, full of depth of thought und true poetic feeling." — Sir J. s 
Macintosh. < 

"This exquisite tale is quite a literary pet in Germany." — Thomas Carlyle. \ 

" Fouque's romances I always recommend, especially the wild, graceful, \ 
and touching Undine." — Sarah Austin. \ 

"The style and execution of this delightful romance are very graceful." — s 
Hawkins" 1 Germany. 5 

5 "Undine is indeed a very charming tale: it displays delicacy blended with ;> 

> great power, a heart-born truthfulness, and a divine spirit. Beauty and poetry i 
I discover themselves in every page ; it has, in fact, become a standard work in s 
i the department of the classical romance, and will never fall into oblivion." — < 
I Thimm's Liter, of Germany. \ 

5 " The faultless completeness of Undine." — Foreign Quart. Review. \ 

> "It may well be doubted whether the wide world's treasury of faery lore ' 

> contains a more exquisite gem." — London Athenaeum. \ 

\ "The 'Undine' of Fouque is too widely known and universally admired to 5 
\ require a word of commendation at this day." — Broadway Journal 

" No tme ever found more acceptance than Undine. ... It is k harmonious s 
expression of the two-fold life of man; it has the frolic and whimsical grace of \ 
childhood, with the pathetic energy of experience. It would win and touch \ 
the worldling, while it embodies the thought of the sage." — Tribune. \ 

"Undine is a most captivating romance, in which the natural and supemat- : 
ural are so delightfully blended that the reader is easily and agreeably recon- 
ciled to this latter peculiarity in German literature." — Albion. 

"We cannot illustrate the general ch iracter of the story of Sintram better 
than by comparing it to the poem of Thalaba. We have the same high-pitched 
tone of religious enthusiasm, the same perpetual combat with the force and < 
fraud of supernatural enemies and the same ultimate success." — Foreign 
< Quart. Review. 

I " Sintram is a work of singular and curious merit. There is a wild strange- 
ly ness in the story which fascinates the reader, and which delights while it ; 
s surprises." — JV. Y. Commer. Adv. 

\ "'Sintram' is a beautifully wild, mysterious, and startling tale." — Broadway 
\ Journal. X 

" Sintram is a wild and pleasing tale." — North American. \ 

"Sintram is a capital tale founded on diver?, traditions of Germanic customs \ 
in war, festivity, &c." — Albion. \ 

"This is a work of strong dramatic interest, with a moral of the highest \ 
character; it requires only to be known to become a great favorite." — j\" Y ', 
Morning News. £ 

"We like 'Sintram' much, and think it must soon become a general favor- S 
ite." — True Sun. I 

| "The second taie, " Sintram,' is a most worthy companion to 'Undine,' and \ 

> we cannot r but feel greatly surprised that it has never before been reprinted 
$ here. It only requires to be known to be very generally recommended." — 

> Evening Gazette. 



I LINDLEY ON HORTICULTURE. I 

I \ 

< The Theory of Horticulture ; or an attempt to explain the \ 

i principal operations of gardening upon physiological prin- \ 

i ciples. By John Lindley, Ph. D., F. R. S., with notes \ 

\ and additions by A. J. Downing, and Dr. A. Gray. 1 \ 

| thick vol. 12mo., with engravings. $1 25. ] 

< Contents. — Of Germination, Of growth by the root, Growth ] 
\ by the Stem, Action of Leaves, Action of Flowers, Of the matu- ) 
I ration of the Fruit, Of Temperature, Of Bottom-heat, Moisture of '< 
\ the Soil, Watering, Atmospherical Moisture and Temperature, I 
i Ventilation, Seed-sowing, Seed- saving, Seed-packing, Propagation \ 

< by Eyes and Knaws, By Leaves, By Cuttings, By Layers and j 
\ Suckers, By Budding and Grafting, Of Pruning, Training, Pot- \ 
I ting, Transplanting, Of the preservation of races by Seed, Of the \ 
\ improvement of Races, Of Resting, Of Soil and Manure, Index. \ 

< "A vast fund of horticultural learning, and embraces, it is hardly too rmch to ! 

< say, nearly all that an intelligent gardener need know." — Loudon 's Magazine of { 
k Gardening. ', 

\ " We are constrained to believe that it will provide the intelligent gardener i 
\ and the scientific amateur with correct means of learning the more important \ 
operations of horticulture." — Farmer s Magazine. 

"The American edition of this valuable work is, in all respects, creditable to < 

the editors; whose joint labors, it may be remarked, furnish in the present in- $ 

stance another illustration of the happy combination of scientific theory with < 

< practical experience. To the American reader, the notes of the co-editors, ; 
i which are both scientifical and practical, add much to the value and interest of ; 
i the work ; being, for the most part, the results of successful experience, with \ 
i such additions and adaptations as the climate and circumstances of our country . 
\ render necessary." — American Journal of Science. 



THE CROTON AQUEDUCT. | 

Illustrations of the Croton Aqueduct. By F. B. Tower, of j 

the Engineer Department. 1 handsome vol. 4to., with 25 \ 

fine engravings. $3 50. \ 

"This volume is very elegant, and must be extremely popular as a permanent ; 
and beautiful record of one of the greatest works of modern times." — JV. Y. ; 
Tribune. \ 

'■' Here is a book which every New Yorker ouiint to buy who has means to \ 
have a library, and can afford to pay the price of it, without actually depriving > 
himself of necessities, and out of New York everybody ought to buy it who is ) 
$ able to indulge a taste for elegant and valuable books." — AT. Y. Commercial. 



VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. 

The Chemistry of Vegetable and Animal Physiology. By I 
Dr. G. T. Mulder, Professor of Chemistry in the Univer- i 
sity of Utrecht. Translated from the Dutch, by P. F. H. | 
Fromberg ; with an Introduction, by Prof. J. F. W. John- ? 
ston. First authorized American Edition ; with notes and i 
corrections, by B. Silliman, Jr. Part I., very neatly \ 
printed. Price 25 cents. j 

" In the true study of nature the principal aim ought to be, not only to make < 
ourselves acquainted with the phenomena and laws which distinguish and J 
regulate living and dead matter, but also to arrange those phenomena and 
laws, and exhibit them in their several relations. The more our knowledge 
of these two departments is extended, and the nearer the several parts of the 
great science of nature seem to approximate, the more firmly must we embrace 
the idea, as necessarily conformable to truth, that the same forces govern alike 
the-animate and inanimate kingdoms." — Author. 

"The celebrity of the author of this long-expected work, has raised a high 
degree of expectation among the readers in this department of scientific litera- 
ture. For depth of argument and originality of views, he has surpassed all 
who have gone before him. The work is a profound one, and merits the care- 

^ ful study of ali. We look forward with interest to the future numbers of the 

' work." — Tribune. 

" For extent and value of research, in the calm spirit of philosophic deduc- 
tion which marks its peculiar character, and the absence of wild theory — it 
stands pre-eminent among the numerous profound and brilliant works of a 
kindred character, which the last two or three years have produced."— Amer. 
Jour, of Science. 



WASHINGTON'S REVOLUTIONARY ORDERS, 

Revolutionary Orders of General Washington, issued during 
the years 1778, '80, '81, and '82 ; selected from the Manu- 
scripts of John Whiting, Lieutenant and Adjutant of the 2d 
Regiment of the Massachusetts Line, and edited by his son, 
Henry Whiting, Lieut. Co!. U. S. Army. 1 vol. 8vo., 
well printed $1 50. 

This is a valuable publication — valuable as well from the historic interests , 
of the orders, as from the source whence they emanated. The collection was J 
made from manuscripts 'hat had suffered from inattention, and the series may J 
therefore be incomplete. Yet the papers, now for the first time published to \ 
the world, are of an exceedingly interesting character, particularly those dated 
from the camp at Valley Forge, during a most trying period of the Revolution. 
To the military man they are invaluable as specimens of clear and concise! 
writing, and for the information ihey contain touching many questions of du- ! 
bious interpretation under the code of war. To all they bring before the mind ! 
; many of the scenes that made the name of Washington immortal, while they ! 
contributed to establish the liberty of tliis great Republic. 



It 



\ GL6MFSES OF THE WONDERFUL. 

I Glimpses of the Wonderful. A book of interest and instruc- 

< tion for the youthful mind. 1 neat vol. 12mo., vvith 34 en- 
\ gravings very handsomely printed, and neatly bound. 75e. 

i. Contents : — Ship-building — The Steam-ship — Edd ystone I light- 

< house — Comparative size of Public Buildings — The Churches of 
I St. Peter and St. Paul— The Cave of Elephanta— Alnwick Cas. 

< tie — Ancient Punishment — The Chinese — Tiger Hunting — The 
$ Sperm-whale Fishery — The Narwhal — Crocodile Hunting — Pearl 
i Diving — The Eagle — The Bat — The Flying-fish — The Lion and 
> the Giraffe — The Boa Constrictor — Skeletons of the Boa and Ele- 
jiphant — The Rhinoceros — The Whale attacked by Fishes — The 
'i Greenland Whale — The Blood and Hair — The Porcupine — The 

Peter Botte Mountain — Icebergs — Astronomy — The Moon — Con- 
clusion. 

"The author has moulded his work into that popular form which combines, 
indue proportion. amusement with instruction. The engravings are original 
and spirited." — Albany Argus. 

) " There is so much sound sense and good advice in this pretty volume that 
\ we cannot be too earnest in recommending it. The engravings are remarkably 
5 clever." — Christian Remeinbraiicer. 

$ "This is a most entertaining as well as instructive work. We strongly re- 
5 commend it to parents and teachers as an excellent book for their juvenile I 
S friends." — New Haven Courier. 

\ "An excellent little work, which must soon become a favorite with out 
' young friends. It has been tastefully got up, and the engravings are excellent." I 
; — JV. Y. Courier. 

\ " Ths style of the author is remarkably forcible, chaste, and elegant."— 
\ JV. Y. True Sun. 



TALES OF THE KINGS OF ENGLAND. ( 

\ Tales of the Kings of England : Stories of Camps and Battle- 
\ Fields, Wars and Victories ; from the Old Historians. By j 
\ Stephen Percy. 2 very neat volumes, 18mo., with engrav- < 
ings. Each, 50 cents. 

"Thr-e works are constructed on a plan which is novel, and we think well \ 
chose. i : and we are glad to find that they are deservedly popular, for they < 
cannot be too strongly recommended, as adapted for the perusal of youth." — s 
Journal of Education. \ 

i "The design of these pretty volumes is excellent.' - Atlas. 

i "We know of no other books which so charmingly blend amusement with > 
> in-struction. No juvenile books have been published in our time more entitled | 
,; to praise." — Examiner. 

i "These pleasing ar 
\ dren." — Christ. Mag: 

i " As amusing as they are instructive. 



GARDENING FOR LADIES. 

Gardening for Ladies ; and Companion to the Flower-Garden. ( 

Being an Alphabetical arrangement of all the ornamental < 

Plants usually grown in gardens and shrubberies ; with < 

full directions for their culture. By Mrs. Loudon. First l , 

American, from the second London edition. Revised and ; 

edited by A. J. Downing. 1 thick vol. 12mo., with en- \ 

) gravings representing the processes of grafting, budding, l 

j layering, &c, &c. $1 50. \ 

I " A truly cliarming work, written with simplicity and clearness. It is deci- ) 

I dedly the best work on the subject, and we strongly recommend it to all our S 

S fair countrywomen, as a work they ought not to be without." — JV. Y. Courier. < 

s "Mr. Downing is entitled to the thanks of the fair florists of our country for \ 

' introducing to their acquaintance this comprehensive and excellent manual, < 

I which must become very popular. Besides an instructive treatment on the best \ 

\ modes of culture, transplanting, bedding, training, destroying insects, &c, and l 

5 the management of plants in pots and green-houses, illustrated with numerous \ 

] plates; the work comprises a Dictionary of the English and Botanic names of • 

the most popular flowers, with directions for their culture. Altogether we > 

should judge, it to be the most valuable work in the department to which it i 

belongs." — Newark Advertiser. ! 

"This is a full and complete manual of instruction upon the subject of whish ( 

it treats. Being intended for those who have little or no previous knowledge of \ 
gardening, it presents, in a very precise and detailed manner, all that is neces- 
sary to be known upon it, and cannot fail to awaken a more general taste for 
these healthful and pleasant pursuits among the ladies of our country." — JV. Y. 
Tribune. 

"This truly delightful work cannot be too highly commended to our fair coun- 
trywomen." — JV Y. Journal of Commerce. 

" We cordially welcome, and heartily commend to all our fair friends, whether 
living in town or country, this very excellent work." — JV. Y. Tribune. 



THE BIRDS OF LONG ISLAND- j 

\ Containing a description of the habits, plumage, -fee, of all 

\ the species now known to visit that section, comprising the \ 

\ larger number of birds found throughout the State of New \ 

j York, and the neighboring States. By T. P. Giraud, jr. j 

\ 1 vol. 8vo. Price $2 00. \ 

> This work, though designed chiefly for the use of the gunners and spoilsmen < 
j residing on Long Island, will still serve as a book of reference for amateurs and ! 
■ others collecting ornithological specimens in various sections <>f the United ! 

> States, particularly for those persons residing on the sea-coasts of Ntw Jersey < 
5 and the Easiern States. '■ 



THE AMBER WITCH. 

Mary Sehweidler, the Amber Witch. The most interesting! 
Trial for Witchcraft ever known. Edited by W. Meinold, j 
D. D. Translated by Lady Duff Gordon. 1 vol. 12mo., * 

| very handsomely printed, in large clear type, on fine pa- < 

<; per. Price 38 cents. 

\ "This in-genious little tale, which has been twice translated into English, is \ 
S written by Dr. Meinold, who professes to have composed it as a practical test \ 
5 of the powers of the Strauss school to distinguish between true and legendary ) 

> history ; and it appears that those divines have fallen into the trap. It has > 
great intrinsic merit." — Brit. Quart. Review. 

"We have read nothing in fiction or in history which has so completely riv- \ 
eted and absorbed our interest as this little volume. If it be a fiction it is wor- ] 
thy — we can give no higher praise — of De Foe." — Quarterly Review. > 

" A gem of modern romance." — JV. Y. Post. 

" This work has enough of the rare and mysterious to satisfy the strongest 
craving for the marvellous." — Newark Advertiser. 

" A more perfect specimen of witchery in this kind of composition we have 
rarely, if indeed ever, met with." — Albany Argus. 

" This delightful work has been received in Europe with universal praise, 
and even here it has little at stake in the way of extensive popularity." — 
Evening Mirror. < 

"A celebrated work. For simple beauty of narration, as an exposition ofhu- > 
man feeling, and a record of the trials of a pious servant of God, this book is a \ 
perfect gem."— U. S. Gazette. i 

" A work which, for the honest and sincere air of the narrative, has not in- I 
aptly been compared by the London Quarterly Review to that of good old \ 
' Robinson Crusoe ;' and for its genoineness and truth of feeling, to the simple j 
nature and sentiment of the ' Vicar of Wakefield,' — to all of which we most < 
fully concur." — Auburn Journal. < 

> "A story of most intense interest, and the critics have been divided on the I 
5 question whether it contains more of romance or of sober truth. It seems < 
S now to be conceded that it is a fiction ; but it is constructed with such admira- i 
S ble skill, and every character is introduced and sustained with so much grace- ( 
5 ful simplicity and ease, that it requires no small effort, in reading it, to realize $ 
? that it is not a veritable narrative of actual occurrences. The foreign journals \ 
I are half crazy with admiration of the author's genius." — Albany Argus. < 

' " Possesses all the lively interest of a romance, and all the external evidences \ 
\ of a truthful narrative." — Monthly Review. < 

" The Amber Witch is a fine specimen of literary ingenuity. Perhaps it is s 
more like a genuine diary. The picture of the girl is sweet, and the tone pre- < 
served about her truly natural and paternal." — Tribune. < 

"The Amber Witch equals Robinson Crusoe in style, and quite surpasses it j 
in interest."— Ladies' Garland. \ 

"It is one of the very few works of fiction of late years which bears about it j 

the unmistakable marks of classicality. It was a memorable work in the origi- \ 

nal, and has been already adopted by acclamation in the English library, \ 

S where we may suppose the Vicar of Wakefield shaking hands with its good, \ 

\ simple-hearted pastor, and De Foe nodding approval to the excessive probabil- <• 

5 ity, the vraisemblance of the style " — Democratic Review. 

> "This is a choice book, full of merit, which consists in its minute, and sim- \ 
\ pie, and graphic details of common life." — Cincinnati Atlas. \ 



} DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION. j 

\ Anastasis : or the Doctrine of the Resurrection ; in which it I 
is shown that the Doctrine of the Resurrection of the Body : 
is not sanctioned by Reason or Revelation. By George 
Bush, Professor of Hebrew, N. Y. University. Second; 
Edition. 1 thick vol. 12mo., well printed. $1 00. 

\ Contents. — Introduction. — The knowledge of revelation pro- 
£ gressive. — Part 1. The rational argument — Objections to the com- \ 

> mon view — Distinction of personal and bodily identity — The true \ 

> body of the Resurrection, as inferred by reason. — Part 2. The \ 
? Scriptural argument — Preliminary remarks — The Old Testament < 
\ doctrine of the Resurrection — Onomatology ; definition of terms— \ 
l Examination of particular passages — New-Testament doctrine of I 
I the Resurrection — Origin and import of the word " Resurrection," | 

< as used in the New Testament — The Resurrection of Christ — Ex- j 
lamination of particular passages — The Resurrection viewed in 5 
5 connection with the Judgment — The First Resurrection and the \ 
\ Judgment of the Dead — " The Times of the Restitution of all j 

> things" — Christ's " delivering up the kingdom" — The conclusion, j 

5 "The author occupies an important station in the University of New York, 

< and is advantageously known as a learned commentator on some books of the 
I Old Testament. It would be wrong to depreciate either his attainments or his 
,> general orthodoxy ; and all that the most earnest and careful exertion of his 

5 powers could enable him to do, he has evidently done, to recommend the \ 
) sentiments unfolded in this volume. Much patient feibor and uncommon in- ) 
genuity have been brought to bear upon it. There is also a spirit that cannot 1 
fail to be attractive — a spirit of candor and modesty, combined with indepen- j 
dence. Educated young men, fond of novel and critical disquisitions, and stu- < 
dents of divinity who are anxious to prove all things, will wish to make \ 
themselves acquainted with its contents." — London Baptist Magazine. < 

"The deep and universal interest excited by the appearance of this most able j 
( / work, has already demanded the issue of a second edition. The promulgation < 
I of the theory maintained so learnedly and cogently by the author, has given < 

> birth to a sharp and somewhat bitter controversy among theologians ; and we £ 
\ are sorry to see that the ill-will engendered has, in some instances, led to the < 
I impeachment of the motives of the writer. This can never be justifiable, and \ 
\ is, in this case, most unfounded and unjust. No one who knows Professor \ 

> Bush, will doubt for an instant the perfect conscientiousness of all that he I 
i has written or said : and the very strong and well-considered argument by \ 
i which he supports his position, will require something more, by way of < 

< answer, than the aspersions to which we have alluded." — JV. Y. Courier. \ 

\ " Prof. Bush deserves the highest commendation, for giving publicity to his \ 
I views of this important Scriptural truth. These views differ widely from those ( 
l commonly received by the religious world ; and it is rare, indeed, to meet with < 
. the boldness which has been exhi vted on this occasion. We believe the au- < 

< thor must possess, in no common dsgree, that rare and precious quality—; fidel- j 

< tty to one's own convictions of truth, and we heartily commend the work to the ' 

< philosophical and the pious." — JV* Y. Mirror. < 

\ " What we have read convinces us that Prof. Bush is a deeply-serious be- 1 
\ liever in the Scriptures, in the soul's immortality, and in future eternal rewards < 

< and punishments, and his theories, if adopted, are not calculated to endanger j 
| any one's spiritual interests." — Boston Recorder. \ 

? " An able and learned work."— Christian Observer. > 



~ 'A 

DR. CHEEVER'S LECTURES ON BUNYAN. | 

Lectures on the Pilgrim's Progress, and on the Life and \ 

Times of John Bunyan. By the Rev. George B. Cheever, | 

D. D. 1 thick vol. 8vo., printed in large type, with fine l 

steel-plate engravings. $3 50; or in 15 numbers at 25 

cents each. 

Contents. — 1. Bunyan and his Times ; 2. Bunyan's Tempta- 
tions ; 3. Bunyan's Examination ; 4. Bunyan in Prison ; 5. Provi- 
dence, Grace, and Genius of Bunyan ; 6. City of Destruction and j 
Slough of Despond ; 7. Christian in the house of the Interpreter; J 
8. Christian on the Hill of Difficulty ; 9. Christian's fight with \ 
Apollyon ; 10. Christian in the Valley of the Shadow of Death; £ 
11. Christian and Faithful in Vanity Fair; 12. Doubting Castle ; 
and Giant Despair; 13. The Delectable Mountains and En' j 
chanted Ground ; 14. Land Beulah and the River of Death ; 15. 
Christiana, Mercy, and the Children. 

"We know of nothing in American literature more likely to be interesting 
and useful than these lectures. The beauty and force of their imagery, the 
noetic brilliancy of their descriptions, the correctness of their sentiments, and 
the excellent spirit which pervades them, must make their perusal a feast to all 
of the religious community." — Tribune. 



\ 

DOWNiNG'S COTTAGE RESIDENCES. 

Designs for Cottage Residences, adapted to North America, i 

including Elevations and Plans of the Buildings, and De- , 

signs for Laying out Grounds. By A. J. Downing, Esq. I 
1 vol. 8vo. with very neat illustrations. Second edition, 

revised. $2 00. j 

A second edition of the " Cottage Residences" is just published, as Part 1. ; <, 
and it is announced by the A-uthor that Fart II., which is in preparation, wili ) 
contain hints and designs for the interiors and furniture of cottages, as well as I 
^ additional designs for farm buildings. 

I One of the leading reviews remarked that "the publication of these works \ 
i may be considered an era in the literature of this country." It is certainly true ) 
\ that no works were ever issued from the American press which at once exerted \ 
/ a more distinct and extended influence on any subject than have these upon the > 
? taste of our country. Since the publication of the first edition of the "Land- I 
? scape Gardening," the taste for rural embellishments has increased to a surpris- \ 
< ing extent, and in almost every instance this volume is the text book of the < 
| improver, and the exponent of the more refined style of arrangement and keeping \ 
£ introduced into our country residences. < 

\ The " Cottage Residences" seems to have been equally well-timed and hap- ; 
' pily done. Country gentlemen, no longer limited to the meager designs of un- [ 
l educated carpenters, are erecting agreeable cottages in a variety of styles suited \ 
i to the location or scenery. Even in the West and South there are already 5 
[ many striking cottages and villas built wholly, or in part, from Mr. Downing's { 
I designs; and in the suburbs of some of the cities, most of the. new residences are s 
\ modified or moulded after the hints thrown out in this work. 



\ 



J 
DOWNING, ON LANDSCAPE GARDENING. I 



\ A Treatise on Landscape Gardening ; adapted to North ; 
\ America, with a view to the improvement of Country Re- ' 
| sidences. Comprising historical notices, and general prin- ;' 
ciples of the art ; directions for laying out grounds, and I 
I arranging plantations; description and cultivation of hardy < 
: trees ; decorative accompaniments to the house and grounds ; \ 
\ formation of pieces of artificial water, flower-gardens, etc. ; ' 
< with remarks on Rural Architecture. New edition, with > 
i large additions and improvements, and many new and ■. 
\ beautiful illustrations. By A. J. Downing. 1 large vol. { 
\ 8vo. $3 50. { 



i u 'J'liis volume, the Jirst. American treatise on tliis subject, will at once take 

i> the rank of the standard work." — Silliman's Journal. 

$ " Downing's Landscape Gardening is a masterly work of its kind, — more 

i especially considering that the art is yet in its infancy in America." — Loudon's 

I Gardener's Magazine. 

\ " Nothing has been omitted that can in the least contribute to a full and ana- 

\ tytical development of the subject; and he treats of all in the most lucid order, 

$ and with much perspicuity and grace of diction." — Democratic Reoicio. 

\ " We dismiss this work with much respect foi the taste and judgment of the 

<, author, and with full confidence that it will exert a commanding influence, 

j They are valuable and instructive, and every man of taste, though he may not 
need, will do well to possess it." — North American Review. 



| DOWNING'S FRUITS OF AMERICA. \ 

\ The Fruits and Fruit Trees of America ; or, the culture, pro- < 
j pagation, and management, in the garden and orchard, of j 
i fruit trees generally ; with descriptions of all the finest \ 
\ varieties of fruit, native or foreign, cultivated in the gardens ' 

of this country. Illustrated with numerous engravings and \ 
s outlines of fruit. By A. J. Downing. 1 vol. 12mo., (and < 

alr.o 8vo. \ 



\ 
s 

5 
I 

> * % * This will be the most complete work on the subject ever published, and i 

\ will, it is hoped, supply a desideratum long felt by amateurs and cultivators. <, 

— ~ . ■ - ^ - _.,. ___ „ _» 



THE POETICAL FORTUNE-TELLER. j 

A curiously charming book. 

Oracles from the Poets ; a fanciful Diversion for the Draw- ; 

ing Room. By Caroline Gilman. 1 neat volume, beauti- , 

fully printed, and elegantly bound in extra cloth, gilt. 

$1 50 

" A most engaging and admirable work, compiled after a very singular idea, < 
by the tasteful and talented Mrs. Gilman of South Carolina. It is a playfully- t 
contrived series of chance answers to questions, suitable for amusement round \ 
an evening table. We close our long extracts with a renewed expression of ; 
our admiration at the taste of the compiler, and the ingenuity with which it \ 
was originally contrived. The getting up of the book should not be forgotten. > 
It is in the shape of an annual, and the best of gift books." — Willis's Evening I 
Mirror. \ 

"The gifted Mrs. Gilman has hit upon an ingenious amusement, which she \ 
conveys in this volume with characteristic taste. It is made up of selections from < 
Engiish and American poets, descriptive of person or character, and classified, > 
so as to form answers to a leading question at the head of each division. As r 
'diversion for the drawing room,' the plan cannot fail to please the young, or i 
those who would feel young. The book is handsomely printed and bound, ; 
and is a suitable ornament for a centre-table." — North American. i 

"This is a beautiful volume, elegantly printed, bound, and embellished, and \ 
has been compiled by Mrs. Caroline Gilman. It was intended originally for v 
the family circle of the author, being destined as well to amuse as to instruct. \ 
It consists in a series of chance answers to questions, suitable for amusement > 
round an evening table. We predict for the work an unexampled success, ^ 
which its pleasing merits eminently entitle it to." — JV. Y. Post. 

, " This very pretty and pleasant volume is designed to be used as a fortune- | 
\ teller, or a round game for forfeits, or examined as a treasure-house for the > 
thoughts of poets on particular subjects, from Chaucer down to the minor poets * 
| of our own time and country. Questions are propounded ; as, ' What is the > 
< character of him who loves you V ' What is your destiny V and a hundred > 
\ others, and answers given from the poets, which are numbered. The literature > 
•. of the volume is of the highest order, and the most exquisite descriptions and ; 
s sentiments are contained in the answers. It is, altogether, an elegant book, ! 
| suitable for a Christmas or New- Year's present to one's ' lady-love.' " — Hunt's . 
\ Magazine. ! 

" This book, though partaking in no wise of a religious character, may be $ 
regarded as an agreeable contribution, not only to the literature of the day' but ? 
to the cause of human improvement. Some amusement is absolutely neces- j 
sary ; and he who contrives one that is at once unexceptionable in its moral / 
tendency, and at the same time fitted to quicken the intellect or refine the j 
taste, is to be regarded as a public benefactor. Such we consider to be the * 
character of this book. It consists of various exquisite selections from the t 
] most popular of the poets, arranged as answers to certain questions, such as j 
a vouthful fancy might naturally enough suggest. The plan is new and inge- > 
nioas and both the literary and mechanical execution beautiful." — Albany > 
Rsligious Spectator. > 

"Here are various questions supposed to be asked by an individual concern- ' 
ing his own fortune, and all the gifted poets, not only on the earth, but in the j 
earth, including those who inhabit the 'Poets' Corner' in Westminster Abbey, > 
are put in requisition to answer them. While the book offers a pleasant 
amusement to the young, it is full of bright and beautiful things, arranged with > 
exquisite skill, which render it a welcome offering to a cultivated taste. It ia > 
withal decorated with every grace and charm that mechanical skill and labor l 
could bestow upon it." — Daily American. • 



' 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS - 

020 196 935 9 



